You know what I’m afraid of?
To lose what I’m holding dear.
It’s entirely possible, and it scares the hell out of me.
I want everything to stay the same, exactly the same when I come back, but that’s impossible. I want the same people, with the same drama, the same talk of the town, the same joyous confidence that made us cocky, that made us the center of attention, the same, just the same.
I don’t know how to deal with this, I’ve never experienced this particular kind of selfishness blended with nostalgia before.
It’s sickening and childish, but it’s what I am.
Then comes the question, the realization: What am I to do if it changes, if I don’t fit in the same? Then I’ll move the fuck on, with a hole in my heart.
