A journal of my dreams.
I can't get enough of you. I wish I could reach out and touch you at more points than not throughout my day. I'd love to subsist on highs sparked by the love in your blue eyes, but I wish they weren't so far apart as they are now - though outsiders think we spend enough time together as it is, I always want more. As I said, I can't get enough. I always want you near me, and it scares me to be alone, because I don't like to think of having to feel so lonely forever. It's been mere days over a week, our new bond is so delicate still. The glue hasn't even set between the bits of our broken love. One fall.... I'm so afraid that one fall will scatter those pieces everywhere. I'm afraid to fall. I'm afraid that you will. I don't know which would kill me more.
Why do people do things they know could hurt them? It's these people that have left me with no real place to express my feelings, unless I forge out a new camp. That makes me sad. The fact that I feel obligated to keep people happy even when it infringes on my own rights, even when I'm told I shouldn't care about said people, that my places are my own in which to say whatever I choose.
I'm cold. But I'm a sneaky leopard-printed woman. I feel like pouncing. If only I can find my prey.
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