I thought, if I found something I cared about, I could feel myself again. I could become the person I used to be before I fell under this pile of crap. But I’d forgotten caring about someone so deeply only develops a confused anxiety. Caring about someone meant opening up and letting them in, hoping they would too. But that’s not for everyone, not all find it easy to open up or let people in. So it’s your call to keep knocking or to walk away. Both options result in sorrow. Being patient isn’t for me. I may have started caring about the wrong person.
She Was Sea 