Murdering Pennywise 🎈

You and I haven’t met in the real world yet, however, there are these thoughts that stab at my mind. There is this sound that taunts my eardrums, like the tip of a 6″ serrated knife tapping on a glass surface **tap tap tap**…

Because of this past that is stitched on my left arm I fear that..

– your lips will lie

– your mind will demean

– your body will cheat

– your hand will leave it’s mark

I try not to allow these thoughts access to the possibilities morphing around my atmosphere, however, those 3am thoughts are uncontrollable gremlins at times..

Even as I focus all of my brain molecules on the future, fears still spiral..

– what if you quickly become my everything and I screw it all up because of this frustrating fact that every good thing in my life eventually leaves. This theory built, *leave before they do*.

– happiness and love are the two arsonists that I’ve always trusted, but what if found and the flame burns rather than ignites..

– would you still want to be with me knowing all of this or should I keep my lips and mind permanently zipped, change who I am. *I tried that once, changed myself for someone. It nearly killed me.*

I hate that these fears pierce my brain, especially when my heart is flipped 180*. I miss the days when my thoughts were simpler, smooth and light. When Pennywise didn’t fill my body with his red fear filled balloons..

I miss the days when
I had a smile on my face and
Wasn’t so caught up in all of the small things
Wasn’t so adamant that I could handle everything alone
And wasn’t so cautious and always exhausted
And actually listen to things that my heart said…” -NF

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s