archival : where this story goes, only the future knows :
48 hours of bliss and noted improvement.
And I'm here now, in the sanctuary of my bed, sick to my stomach at 3 AM for the churning thoughts over you that I fight to keep at bay.
When will you forget my worth, again?
Not if, but, when?
Your text interrupts my typing here. I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid. I have a history of falling for manipulation. I have a history of sticking around for things no one should stick around for.
I plead with the universe to help you find your heart, and quickly! I am only so willing and able.