I donât really know who I am without you.
Iâm not sure if thatâs a good thing or a bad thing, but itâs a thing.
Itâs a thing that follows me.
I wake up sometimes to the pitter-pattering of that thing. It walks along my limbs and seeps beneath my skin. And it whispers in both my ears, as if taking turns with each side of my brain.
I havenât been able to shake this thing, but I donât really know how to shake you either.
L.G. This Thing Of Mine



















