Hold your breath as the butterflies in your stomach grow wider.
The thoughts in your mind expanding, like the never ending universe.
Thoughts of you...being alone, trapped with the demons of your head.
Thoughts of a bitter, sacred betrayal, bound to happen in reality or fantasy.
Thoughts of the mind; to dark and macabre to fill this page.
At the base of this lies a question, "Who am I?"
A question I am always trying to figure out, digging deep into my subconscious, but all I find is a null void.
A place where many things are compiled that I have learned over the years, but none answer the question I ask.
I don't know who I am, but I know how I feel.
I feel static, like a robot with limited time.
A shell of a person compiled of many different pieces, none of which are her own.
This causes the feelings of unwantedness and resentment.
She wants to feel normal and not worry about the slightest details.
When she is in this state...worry I her key to brief insanity.
What if I'm not good enough?
What if he gives up on me?
What if he doesn't love me anymore?
I love him, but I always feel like he could do so much better.
I am a wounded animal, and he is a kind traveler who has taken me in.
Eventually, I will get burdensome, and I will have to leave.
I feel as if I could be easily replaced, because no one wants to love a moody person who can't control their emotions on the whim.
Someone who gets depressed, and the endless spouts of anxiety that cause pages to fill with senseless words of emotion.
Sometimes, I feel as if I am cursed to stay like this forever.
My heart racing with demonic butterflies eating away at my chest until I am a shell of my former self.
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