When I make up my mind to do something, even if it's the wrong something to do, I set my course, pack my bags and go. It's the stubborn side of me, the one who doesn't want to be proved wrong, but never waits around long enough to be proved right.
It's a weakness. A weakness I've turned into fictional strength, the art of moving forward when my heart is still about three steps behind. And whoever said that self-preservation is worth any cost, I'd like to know how they determined just how much was enough...
I refuse to turn in circles and yet I'm spinning. Days and nights, tripping over themselves tumbling onto me, balancing myself when I lean in one direction too far or in another not enough. Trying to figure out the whole world of everything. Keeping control on a short leash. Leaving nothing to chance.
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