I have this fear that my life is a story.
I worry I will one day faint down the stairs.
When my body crashes and I feel worse, my body self esteem dips.
I’m good at being the bigger person when someone else can’t be.
I’m always the one to speak. I’m not sure I like that.
I can’t think of any deep, dark secrets I have.
Sometimes I sip water as though my life depends on finishing the bottle. I wish it could be my salvation.
I think that as a child I suppressed my jealous streak, but it’s still in there somewhere. Maybe that’s my deep, dark secret.
I miss not knowing about the horrible things that happen in the world.
Just some truths today. What are yours?
Sometimes I think that I think too much. – Hold You, Nina Nesbitt