will i wonder in the coming months if i should have spread my fingers apart more when i peeked while covering my eyes? will these, the remnants and inflections and fragments of emotion suffice? everything on paper? it feels more like a contract than an expression of emotion. can i ever be sure of anything?

rely on anything?

am i doomed to bring myself to accept decisions i've made, or will i actively make them?

it feels like before.

the before that was ill-advised.

always these things happen the same way, and empty emotion is the reward for falling into human foibles. feeling the impermanence of everything in every second passing. it's the repetition that draws me back.

i know i have mutated around these knots in the fibers of the growth process and incorporated them into the decision making and hesitation processes. familiar sharp-edged loaded situations give my senses waves of charged emotions and swing me through the good and bad.

leaves burn, and so too does everything in the fall. nights fall lifeless at the feet of intensified and concentrated days harboring little sunlight, giving way to sleepless and nervousness.

butterflies weighted down with frost settle overnight in my stomach and keep my eyes fluttering all hours. i realize nothing is safe, and my hands cover my face with the slits of daybreak slicing in and removing comfort and warmth and, at times, hope. this time, not even the scenery is different. it's as if autopilot has taken over and the motions are repeating themselves out of some dirty, familiar habit which should have been unlearned years ago when that situation was remedied.

when i can bear to look, will it already be too late?

opportunities pass and heated, charged, burning emotions subside over time. there are no exceptions and this is what hurts and worries and terrifies me (us?) the most;

who will snap first, me and my pain or me and my fear?