I’ve got chills no blanket can cure,
a cold my loving heart can’t warm.
I have an anxiety that feeds off me but is not me. An anxiety born from nurture, not nature. The lies and destruction others left on my soul bear a heavy burden. I was ready to move through that, and I thought I found that security here. Here I thought I was safe.
I keep finding things in places I’m not looking. Not good things. Things that make my eyes well and my arm hair stand up straight. Things that give me these chills even in a warm room.
Sometimes life gives you multiple paths, sometimes just one. You don’t really get to choose.
Reach a hand to help the burning child and you will get burned. These burns will scar, or the flames may consume you. The flames haven’t decided what to do with me yet.
Is it the angel on my shoulder that cries “Hold on to hope”, or is that the devil? I haven’t the slightest clue.