An ornate and gold-edged book, of which inside are secrets even she doesn't know or understand. But tucked all through it are leaflets of paper, as if she'd rather not write in the book its self. Except on the first empty page of the book is written in exquisite, flowing penmanship her full name. ~ Lavender Cecelia Morgan.
Friday, 07 August 2020
Why is it no matter what I do, what I say, who I am with.. I always feel like I am lost, or drowning. Will anywhere ever be safe? Be home? Some days I think I'd be better off if the gods didn't resurrect me at my monument..then I will no longer feel this way, no longer feel like nothing I do is right. I find that feeling of not being enough, not feeling like I'm worth anything is worse when people get close to me. Perhaps that is why I push them away, so I don't have to feel like I am worthless. I know it isn't their fault... It is inside of me, so deeply rooted it may never be undone. I know I'm loved, and I know how to love.. I guess, in my own way, but it never seems to be enough, like I'm, not enough.
