With burning fingertips and tired eyes, where is my place in this box? Far too fragile to venture outside and bare witness- far too restrained to grow into something more, I have found myself stuck in a spin cycle, left in far too long, humid and molding away- the hot mist settling thick like a deep breath of grease- I am repulsed by myself yet I cannot desire to seek any other company at the time being. I spite myself, but at least I can trust it to some extent. I cannot trust it to be gentle with me, to hold me, to say the kindest things, but rather to stay and be consistent. I don't leave me, this is one housemate that is here to stay, regardless of treatment, the consistency of a foundation is soothing, while varied in mind, at least not in presence. Right now that is enough.
-Sentient
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