Sometimes it’s like this just to remind you that you are still alive... it’s like that time when my heart hurt more than any of the deaths or the loss.... blades calmed my heart, and my head spun.
But this just tells you that you aren’t empty. You can still love. You have a heart: she said.
and that’s what it’s like right now in this liminal space; betwixt and between.
Thirteen year old Cora never fucking existed.
So you are speaking to nothing.
A dream
A delusion
But really, 13 Year old Cora was always there. Waiting to bloom and come out as this beautiful, strong, vulnerable woman you see.
But you wouldn’t know that because you never asked. You ask all the questions I asked you to ask, the questions you think mean something...
but they don’t.
Much like with my random stabbing in the dark questions because you refuse to be transparent with me; your questions are more about you and yourself than they are about me and who I am, where I come from, and what made me the Cora you pretend to give a shit about.
I missed you and I hadn’t even met you. Which reminds me I am in the liminal.
Communitas happens, he said.
I know this is supposed to be uncomfortable. I am fighting my natural reaction to just run, which is more possible now than ever. Fleeing his narcissism and her gaslighting, each step feels like becoming more and more myself. But still the sticky complications of the liminal surround me.
But this just tells you that you aren’t empty. You can still love. You have a heart: she said.
and that’s what it’s like right now in this liminal space; betwixt and between.
Thirteen year old Cora never fucking existed.
So you are speaking to nothing.
A dream
A delusion
But really, 13 Year old Cora was always there. Waiting to bloom and come out as this beautiful, strong, vulnerable woman you see.
But you wouldn’t know that because you never asked. You ask all the questions I asked you to ask, the questions you think mean something...
but they don’t.
Much like with my random stabbing in the dark questions because you refuse to be transparent with me; your questions are more about you and yourself than they are about me and who I am, where I come from, and what made me the Cora you pretend to give a shit about.
I missed you and I hadn’t even met you. Which reminds me I am in the liminal.
Communitas happens, he said.
I know this is supposed to be uncomfortable. I am fighting my natural reaction to just run, which is more possible now than ever. Fleeing his narcissism and her gaslighting, each step feels like becoming more and more myself. But still the sticky complications of the liminal surround me.
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