It’s too long
It’s too long for comfort.
It’s starting to become unnatural
Stretched
Losing its elasticity.
The bounce back isn’t as sharp and I’m seeing that now
I’m realizing that.
The recovery time is extending with every year or so,
Healing isn’t as quick anymore.
More time is being added to the que
And there's nothing I can do about that but give it up to God.
Let the universe take ahold of this catastrophic event—
The time is out of your hands.
I have an issue with control, where I let it manifest its way into my world and tell me how to do things “right..”
Like a teacher seeing you mishandle the equipment time and time again—
“Here, let go, let me show you how it’s done…”
Well excuuuuse me.
You gotta know when to let go.
I battle with not knowing nothing at all
Battle with guilt, shame. Thinking everything is on me, like I gotta carry all the weight in order to “reap.”
This nauseous feeling creeps up reminding me of my wrongdoings—feeling so boxed in with every mistake I make there’s no room for grace i fret.
I fret it’s too late for that
too thin for that
Lost its elasticity.
Words mean nothing anymore—they’re just words vomiting out of one’s mouth. That box becomes smaller and smaller to the point you have to move out, there’s no more room for your *******. For thee *******.
That heart that once pumped a thousand emotions at once has now stretched…
Becoming thin
Withered and tired.
This isn’t normal, it’s too long for comfort.