(I would love this... In my dream home, my dream man
would make me this dream room.
Who doesn't love the dark?)
I'm about to ramble. I don't care. I've given up on poetry and prose and all things beautiful.
Trust is such a tricky thing. Especially when you have a brain like mine. It wants to trust. And to feel trusted back.
The slightest thing will completely disarm my brain and the walls go back up. Then down. Then up and down again. It never makes up its mind. Do I trust, or don't I trust?
But I'm still happy. Going with what comes at me.
And I guess that's all that really matters.
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