I have been thinking about abrupt shift in the continental plates of comfort that take place no matter how much of a control freak I can be. What is my problem? How am I setting myself back? What skeletons are rattling so close to the closet door that I can't move without disturbing them? What is the comfort in sabotage and failure? And why do I want to know the future so fucking badly? Why don't I trust my intution?
Who do I love and how do I do so? Am I even capable? I am starting to realize that, not only do I not know, I am completely unsure. As sure as the imminent next step. I walk in stride and trust that the ground will be beneath me.
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