Every time I open my mouth I hurt someone.
That's how it feels.
The constant fear that any and every conversation will turn to a forest fire, burning bridges I hadn't walked on in years.
Thoughts of dark counter measures stream non stop, a permanent gun on the table, gambling with my life.
It seems to me that I'll never be happy.
Not truly.
It's a weird grey that hovers just out of sight, out of reach.
I don't want to be controlled by this.
This fear of speech.
Of simply expressing myself in any form.
Put simply.
I want to run...
Far, far away.
Away from everything and everyone I know.
Away from anything I could possibly harm.
The problem is that my head isn't much safer...
Spend to much time thinking and you start to unravel threads of crimson and charcoal.
I wonder when my proverbial sweater will completely fall apart.
Can't be much longer now.
And to be honest I can't wait.
.•♫•♬• 𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒆 •♬•♫•.