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Those frivolous, throw away comments- words that cannot be unsaid and thoughts that fester and seethe like an open wound on my soul.
Perspective is such a worthwhile ally; one whose presence is not felt often enough by me, whose words of caution are ignored in favour of alarming, fearful ideas that creep and hide in the corners of my mind, spreading their insidious tendrils of insecurity and fear until I am paralysed; overcome.
What was said cannot be unsaid, what is known cannot be unknown.
And so I lie here, questioning every one, every thing, every thought uttered, every feeling expressed.
I am aware that I am my own undoing, that I lay myself bare, skin pale and vulnerable, and willing to accept whatever is given.
Those feelings, these ideas, the words you once said, what of them?