Peter Pan is truly tragic.
I see what I want to see.
And now. Finally. My eyes are opening.
Tonight I think I finally did it. That balance. Holding on and letting go.
Nothing is black and white.
This world was meant to be round.
I can convince myself of many things. So easily.
And maybe that’s not so wrong.
I cannot give up. I cannot let go.
It would be a waste of a beautiful heart.
Do not tame my heart.
I firmly believe in belief.
You know, I really wasn’t ever as weak as I thought I was. I’m not as messed up as I think I am. And I need to stop wearing my scars like medals.
Fucking done already.
Back to the start.
I finally get it: I don’t get it.
It’s rough and it crushes in the tip of your head while coursing intensely painful waves of pleasure through your nerve endings.
And there is no answer.
Love is never wrong.
My mind can’t process much of anything. I can’t even fathom how to breathe normally. What with the emotional rollercoaster that was Runaways…the train wreck that was Conor and I…straight into a gorgeous week in Cancun with Amy…to literally the most incredible week of my life in Belize…which honestly seems surreal now…to this utter BULLSHIT with Bobby to yesterday finally ending the college search and making a decision. Not to mention attempting to embrace the next two months ahead of me. It really is too much. But too much in a magical way.
There is SO much bouncing around my head that I absolutely cannot channel it into anything coherent. It is simply too much.