Hearts have brain cells. They know. They warn you when **** is about to hit the fan.

That sinking feeling in your chest? That's intuition babe. It always has been.

But when that sinking feeling feels so much like that flying, falling feeling, it's hard to unravel which is really which.

So I'm done. I'm done. I give up. I can't trust myself, can't trust a man, can't trust the words that someone says, can't unravel the "I love you" from the "I don't know what I want."

I am chambers fully loaded, blood pumping, always ready. So willing. Send me into war for you, I'll come back a victor.

Send me away?

They'll write back home about my efforts and valiant attempts, but I will be nothing more than a story someone tells someday, disintegrated bones, sticks and stones, she who didn't need love anyway, wanted it so badly, didn't need it... But only ever got herself.