Moments
I go out into the world, and I have these moments. Moments so beautiful that I get misty eyed, and I have to mumble under my breath, “please don’t cry in public.” Moments so terrible that my hands ball to fists, and I can feel my nails puncturing the skin. A million magical moments, that make me feel real… and not one of them half as vivid, or lucid, as a split second in my own imagination. People wonder why I spend so much time home, and alone.
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outofherhead said:
I understand completely.
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