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And she wakes up at one a.m. after talking to you on the phone and being boring as all get out. She thinks way too much about you. She treats you like her primal family almost - like you can hurt her at any juncture and she has to be alert for any sign of disconnection as that would mean death.
But she looks in the mirror - braving seeing her image - and shrugs and decides that if she's fucked up - if you don't like her because she's playing too "cool" or too "dork"; she'll have fucking played. It's not a huge amount of comfort because she wants so badly for you to really see her, but it helps shift the doom slightly. And she returns to bed.
You said you haven't slept since your trip. She hasn't slept since she met you. The time for forced conversations in tedious road trips might be nigh, and she's fervently hoping that it flows like melted butter on a hot roll.
You continue to ask her nothing about her day or her thoughts and hopes. She wonders if it's because she offers tidbits.
"well, it's my own fault. It will be a year that I've lived here, and I know only one person - well maybe two. You have a whole society."
And she had loved his fucking world. She took a surreptitious picture of the screen door in his life. She wanted to capture the feeling of safe belonging. She feels unsure and unsteady, and she's not nearly as cocky as she was when she wasn't even cocky before. It's all unsure. She sometimes feels like she's metaphorically grabbing at sand to clench her fist around your throttle.
It will all be whatever.
She makes herself remember that she doesn't need anyone to validate her.
She tries to not care so much.
Validation is so fun.
sigh. it continues
thank god.
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