Looking back to when it’s not…
I don’t know.
What is it the balance? What makes me happy? What _is_ happy?
I feel weak and I want to cry.
I’m hungry but I have no motivation to eat.
It’s funny how writing about butterflies got my mind off the bees.
Ideas whizzing in my head, stinging the back of my mind.
Ideas that never get fulfilled because I push them away.
Ideas that stop me from thinking.
Ideas that make me panic!
I feel the flicker of a butterfly.
Light at first, then heavier as it gets closer.