Terms and conditions apply.
to my... condition.
It's not as simple as you might think. The autumn happening outside, and inside... well, inside I fear the danger of forgetting what winters are made of.
I feel rebellious when we engage in emotional attatchment. Like the pre moments of a storm, I feel the greyness and weight of being sober after so much warmth, so much so much. I often struggle with the idea of letting myself like you as much as I do now. It's a dead end.
Worse than having to put on your favorite shoes and forgetting how to dance.
worse than enjoying you in bed so bad and having to leave in the mornings.
I despise the fact I'm sober, that I can't control all the illusion and all reality that fades like fog.
I fear attatchment that gets stronger with time.
with the same intensity I know the only thing keeping me going is having you so close.
