What is this reality I see coming barreling at me one hundred miles an hour?
How can one reality become so corrupt in the face of another? Does new and fresh mean it’s superior? Wouldn’t the aged reality be wiser? One would think so.
One day I sweep away the dust to be with you only to find the joy flailing to the ground, sirening an SOS signal. The dust pollutes my saliva and I’m left wondering what happened.
Suddenly your smile sends me cringing. My nose scrunches at your scent. You’re attention leaves me feeling hopeless when once I would have been sailing on air with the hope that your friendship brought.
This is why I said it. This is why I say it. I’m not ready for commitment. I just don’t know how to like a guy. I’m ever searching for that handle on what is my feelings. Just when I think I’m safe, when I think I’ve mastered it, my emotions slip through my fingers like sand and my hopes fly away on the wings of a hot air balloon.
I’m hoping I’ll grow out of it. And even if I can’t find it within me to be the perfect girl for a guy, I hope I’ll learn at least to sustain a friendship because right now I’m caught.
I hate the way my emotions spin out of control, round and round. They reach the spin dry cycle and I feel the fabric of my emotions drying out, making my heart stiffer than before.
Where can I find the fabric softener? Ah that’s right. Love. 1 Corinthians 13.



