I fear that this is the end. We’ve ended before we ever decided to start. I mean really start. Not that little conversation that we had a few months ago, about liking each other, or that conversation we had over not possibly liking each other enough.

I am about to leave that conversation before it ever ends. I’m jumping the gun. Eventhough fear is in my heart, as it always has been in matters such as this, even with all the stupid things I keep telling myself and the things that people say and the words that you never do that keeps a girl like me hoping, I will leave that conversation.

Honestly, it’s my fault. I think I managed to box myself into this corner. The corner where I know I maybe alone. And even when it seems that I’m not, I am alone. And the paint that I keep on painting will never dry because I have to step on it, and ruin it.

But there’s always that possibility of painting over it again, just with a different color, a different brush, a different time, as a different person. I’m weary of this current painting. I’m weary of waiting for things to dry.



Wrote this a few months back. Good news though! I didn’t need to leave the conversation, and the paint was quick-dry. 🙂


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