The first selfish straw broke the camel's back. If I could tell you I would tell you this - I was trying to be perfect. I was trying so hard to be perfect for you.
Belief. Principles. You. Me.
I feel like I'm walking on a land mine.
There is a frenzied running from room to room. They are searching for papers. Paper that I know they do not have. I wish they'd stop. And tell me that I must help. The air is filled with useless panic. And it is filling me with hate. I wonder if the anxiety is genetic. I wonder if they will care if I tell them that it is unbearable. I wonder if they will stop panicking for a second to care...
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