Stream of Consciousness

“If You Love Me, Come Clean”

Sometimes I think about all the things said and done. The collected heartaches and tears. The journal pages filled of questions, asking if I’m enough.

What’s a life measured in? The years spent from birth to death? The hours spent behind a desk? Or the moments spent with those you love?

All these books in my library and no librarian in sight.

The only thing separating us is my emotional baggage, a wall of anxiety, and my unwillingness to let go.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.