Still I’m Pinned Under The Weight Of What I Believed Would Keep Me Safe

So show me where my armor ends, show me where my skin begins.

 

Photo Essay: The Thing About Regret Part VII

 

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I was nine.

I was ten.

I was eleven.

I was twelve.

I was thirteen.

I was fourteen.

I was fifteen.

 

For every situation I find myself in, there are countless scenarios playing in my mind of what I should do for the worst possible outcomes. It is because people do not always do things with the best of intentions. Often times, they will do things with the worst. I learned to always expect this because even the people who are supposed to protect you will fail you. They will disappoint you, and they will hurt you. It has affected every single relationship I have had — whether platonic or romantic. I have punished people, albeit unintentionally and subconsciously, that I cared for and loved because of my inability to believe in them. I have hurt people because I could not have faith. It is not fair. It is not right. And this is a lesson I should not have learned, and I am trying my hardest to forget it or at the very least — not have it so all consuming.

 

The Blog.

I'm listening to Pluto.

Done