2 a.m. — when the late night thoughts keep me wide awake while I immerse in the deafening sound of silence that kills.
I'm not an expressive person, but it is much easier to string my thoughts into sentences than to verbally and incoherently express myself. Sometimes, I struggle to find the right words to say, and most times I wind up having nothing to say at all.
I have gotten too comfortable in the last few years that I am now in pieces and impossible to love. I attempt to close a chapter of my life and learn to flip to a new one, but I am too broken and afraid to know how. Everyday, I tell myself to live life happier than I was yesterday, but each day, I'm afraid of what's to come the next day.
I'm petrified of sinking and falling, I'm afraid of becoming vulnerable again, and I'm wary of letting another person into my life to learn about my habits and flaws — how I have to drink a cup of water after every shower, how I sleep with a dozen of stuffed animals, how I shiver at the sight of butterflies, or how I am extremely picky about food.
I am flawed, I can't collect my thoughts, I don't know how to trust, and I fear starting over.