anything else but the truth

The flaw in my reasoning must be internal, even though I am known to make decisions for others.

So I carry the weight of possible repercussion, flailing recklessly through my choices and praying under my breath that the hurt will be minimal for all of those involved. The conflicting duailty of who I’m becoming is starting to irk me, because there’s always that 15 year old girl in me who will probably always be blinded by you. Am I too reverent, am i holding my past on a pedestal and letting it stay immortalized when, in all reality, I should kick that pedestal over and let all that shit get dirty and cracked and forgotten, wrinkled and mildewy when you dig it up in the garage three years from now?

Barely recognizing yourself from day to day, I am starting to take a liking to it. There’s something hopeful about not knowing myself every morning, what’s this crazy bitch gonna get into today? I never seem to disappoint either. moment to moment I never know what I’m going to do. Most days I have to hold myself down to not get up in the middle of lecture, get in my car, drive to the airport and just GO. Which to a point is cute and adventurous and all, but in all reality it’s cowardice and impulse mixing themselves up in my gut until I am dizzy with restlessness. That’s what it is when you get down to the wire, right? The indecision, the drastic change, the constant questioning: It is completely human in its own sense, but for me it is not good enough.

That constant questioning makes me feel like a failure: why do you know nothing of yourself? What are you so scared of?

I am fragmented in a deeply hidden way, in a way I don’t understand. Otherwise I’d get to mending, no?

But maybe the problem isn’t understanding, maybe it’s coping. Contrary to popular belief I am made of nothing but flesh and bone, no reinforced steel in this spine. I am probably terrified of what I’ll find if I dig too deep.
Not because I’m profound or deep or complicated, I’m not that scarred and I’ve lived an incredibly beautiful and blessed life. But there is something festering at my very core, infected and jagged with no straight lines to help the healing. I am afraid of the truth, I am afraid to know how weak and affected I really am;

What a codependent mess, where do I begin?

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