Sometimes I'm wondering how it is possible that we don't just run around shouting in panic and despair. How we manage to rein them all in. I've had this urge lately. I want to stop walking, right there in the middle of the street, and start shouting and never stop. I've noticed that now it's not love lyrics that make me listen more closely to the song, what's the point if we could talk about our treacherous short-living bodies instead. I want to scratch myself open, I want to scratch the past open and weed myself out. I start typing "painless" and I stop myself, because it's stupid.
I hate it that the things that scare us the most are the things that are going to happen. I hate that the things I've always resented and ignored are the things that make me pay attention to them. I get sick just thinking about them, and I'm forced to touch, and treat, and hurt, and care, and feel them.