This insecurity, it's different. I cannot even begin to attempt to explain myself,
cannot even begin to find myself answers when I haven't even found the words to put my questions together yet.
I'll go write some place else instead.
Because,
because sometimes, people want you to believe and trust and trust and believe.
And you do. And you give them the key that unlocks all of you, even the bits that you don't ever let the world see. And you like that; You wanted to, after all.
But after a while, you stop being very much to look at, barely reason enough to think about. And they'll still have that key hanging off the quietest chain on their neck.
And so, when I stop being enough for you
let me know, okay?
November 27th 2010, Saturday
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