" be nice to yourself. " said @behaved25 , and you almost have to laugh at the irony. be nice to yourself, regarding what? you almost ask, stuck on an answer was not like you, always quick to jab back. it's easier when your words are full of hate, when you can hide behind a painted mask so that no one ever truly knows you, because how can words hurt when they aren't true? in the passenger seat, you're restless, you have been for years now; just waiting as if one day everything will suddenly fit into place, a missing jigsaw piece to the puzzle that had become your life. there has always been a stranger inside of you begging to get out, another version of you who knew what life was about, was ready to welcome it with open arms. all you saw was the rearview, always running from something, never content with what was given. how could you be when what was given was scraps on a table? another unopened bill, stamped with last notice dated 3 weeks ago, house uninhabitable after night fell for weeks on end with no sign of reprieve. that stranger— that other version of you rattled inside your ribcage as if it was its eternal prison: can't it understand you are trying to save it? that you will let that girl inside you breathe only when it is safe? " — - i have a better idea,"
you've never known where to put your loneliness, it had always been bigger than you, grew faster than you did and you wear it like hand-me-down clothes two sizes too big. for once, it is satiated, it had left some room for you too, to let words fall through lips rather than turning to run. first, you shoot him a grin before feet are kicked up on the dashboard, leaning over push new tape into the console. "you go first, or you can zip it and let me enjoy the smooth, dulcet tones of alanis morissette without interruption?"
