For most of Thursday, I felt reasonably fine. Then I went to the airport, and I no longer felt fine.
Perhaps I should have seen it coming. I am a mystery only to myself.
Self-absorption, apparently, does not equal self-sufficiency. I can't shake this sense that I exist mostly in the minds of others, and I fear that I will wither away when I stop mattering to those whom I adore.
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1 comment:
i will assume you haven't withered, if i may be so bold to assume a role (and therefore insider information) in this experience.
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