Am I Growing Up or Dying Inside?
by rebecca-suzanne
You made me feel like such a damn child and every attempt I made to hold your hand, you shook off and ignored until it was convenient for you.
Everything was so infantile to you. You had already reached goals I set for myself and you were bored. "Small" was synonymous with my dreams in your book.
Maybe I was naive, but you're rigid attitude towards me has taught me how to shed those jejune fantasies and keep everyone I meet at arms length.
I see no point in these frivolous feelings that used to steer me into shipwrecks. I'm too busy drinking bleach to kill these butterflies to answer your calls.