I can blog about it though lol.
I can’t write about you.
Like when you write things they actually exist to me.
Words are all I have and it scares me to write this.
I can’t let you read this.
I can’t tell you I wrote about you.
Not for awhile.
When I write I get fake deep.
Tears well up behind my eyes for no reason at all.
Im not upset.
When I begin to get all these thoughts out… its like they all TRY to rush to the page.
I cant write for you.
I cant let you read my real thoughts.
Because then things are real.
I used to let Stink read everything.
I let her in.
I wrote, well threw something together for Lunchbox.
I let him in.
I’m not ready.
My words are my last wall.
My last guard.
If I were to write how I feel.