This is the hour of fear, love. This is the time when we sit and we cry because we can't do anything but sit and stare at blank walls dreading the fact that our time in this room is coming to a close. Screams echo in my mind and I can't seem to think straight, yet I'm still here.
I exist.
The anxiety creeps up on me and I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow, but then again, neither do you. Surprises scare me, and so does love. Curling irons are hot and shiny, but that doesn't really make a difference, does it? What if I don't like what happens tomorrow? What if what happens makes me the happiest of all the happy girls in the world? Is that even a good thing?
I don't know.
I can't seem to fathom the world as I know it, and I can't think of non-existence, because all I know is existence. (Don't we all?) And maybe existing is the hard part, and everything else is actually simple, but we wouldn't realize just how hard it is to simply exist, because we've been doing it our whole lives. Maybe that's the problem here.
I wouldn't know.
Tell me it gets easier, and tell me the truth.
Forever Yours,
Rachel.
