I wish I could, even for a fleeting moment, just know how to handle everything.
Handle the stress, the emotions, maybe even the pain.
But I am defiantly imperfect in my ways and in my head.
My values fight to stay solidified as I face situations a younger me couldn’t comprehend.
I wish I could take things in stride like I used to, but with you I’ve become so different, in millions of ways good, but my thick skin cannot turn into leather before your gaze.
It instead sheds away, leaving me helpless to feelings as new and ripe as seeds in May.
You fret because you hurt me, but it is this pain that I accept, for it’s a price of the honesty I ask from you.
I wish I could say these truths didn’t hurt me, but it’s far better than living in ignorance...