subject line: to keep it zipped or let it out?


columbus, ohio

I keep holding my breath for the moment you realize that I’m too much work and I lug around twenty years worth of baggage that reeks of pain. I think I might pretend like its not there but some moments you catch whiffs of the stink and I cringe. If you open that baggage and see whats hiding, won’t you leave? There’s a part of me that wants you to; so I can prove to myself that I’m not love-able, that I’m better off alone. But there’s a growing part that begging you to open up all the bags and help me unpack. I don’t want you to do it for me, just support my folding and sorting. Oh, how that desire terrifies me.