I’m A Tangled Mess Who Overthinks Everything

I dream of a day when my heart no longer feels so heavy.

Like a balloon filled with water,

Pinned to a board waiting for a dart to strike… or miss… or…

I don’t know if I can handle the anxiety of waiting for things to burst whether beautiful or not.

Whether there’s a prize at the end or not.

Expectations are always inconclusive;

Not ending doubt or dispute.

I don’t know if I can handle the brevity,

I don’t know if I can handle the longevity.

Brevity and longevity are interesting in spec;

You see one is defined as shortness in time,

And the other perpetuates a long existence.

All I’m looking for is a balance.

To feel and see and to know but not have the weight… the price of not doing but then doing and not being what I want and regret and fear of what could be if it was.

To unkink and unknot the shoulders that have permanently attached themselves to my ears;

Such a tangled mess I am.

I want a long life but I don’t want to wait anymore,

But I’m okay with a short life but only if it’s been lived.

Where can I find the warranty if neither is guaranteed?

I overthink everything. 

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