Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
Every. Traumatic. Household. Ever. Heart beating fast against my ribcages: physically hurting, while my face is drainig out of color. I can feel it all. but it is not out of love. It is fear. Fearing what if they misunderstand. Fearing what if they cut me off of all my freedom (of the small amout left). Fearing what if i end up hating them. Fearing they would never understand why I do the things I do. Fear of being a disrupter of peace in my family. Fear of not knowing what they talk behind my back. Fear of not being able to fall in love ever again. Fearing what if love really looks like this.
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