i don't know what i'm doing. i thought i knew.
yesterday i nearly snapped, and i know it was nobody's fault. i also knew that no matter how i tried to convince myself i've gotten over it, the phobia is still there. sometimes it makes me wonder about the past, whether anything done might have helped, and maybe i wouldn't turn out this way at all. repressed memories? if i were Freud, i'd probably think that. heck, Freud would link everything to the subconscious. makes me wonder what my subconscious knows that i'm unconscious of.
i don't know what i'll do. i used to dream of growing up quickly, envying those in powersuits and their freedom to do almost anything. so much so that when my years of being a child are coming to an end, and i'm currently in limbo between the two places, i just wish i can curl up somewhere and reach the destination miraculously. naive, silly, unrealistic.
this isn't fair to anyone. i'm thinking like a coward, hoping the decision will be taken out of my hands.
what will it take for me to finally get the courage to tell him i love him? and that i always have, and will, even if it's not apparent.
mein hatz ist fol.
;11:24 AM
