I am, I want, I am
I am prone to saying things. I run off my mouth when upset or even when moderately agitated by simple little problems. I am foolishly paranoid of the most ridiculous of troubles, always thinking that somehow the worst that could ever happen, does indeed happen. And it never really does. I want excessively for things to go my way, or even just the comfort knowing that she's there by my side. All she has to do is say a word or two my way - it's not like I can see her every day, so far as things have been anyway. I am sick, literally sick - throat itchy and phlegm clogging all possible airways, forcing me to sneeze and cough to some semblance of health. In the midst of illness, I let my mouth run away from me. As it runs, it lights the bridges and proceeds to burn them down. I am a shameful, sorrowful existence of a human being, not even able to grasp onto the fact that God has a handle on the circ...