065. And for something insightful for a change.

This is simple, really.
- I just don't want to get hurt. We all get hurt. Everytime. I will get hurt. That is inevitable.
But I'd like to think I have control over whether or not someone else hurts me.
Dear Ashley, you don't.
But I'd like to think that way, anyways. Dont squash that.
And I know what all you semi-dreamer-semi-romantics-semi-off the walls will say.
"Take that chance," but I refuse. I refuse because I don't trust that easily anymore, and I don't pardon wrongs like dealers deal out cards. I hold grudges. I hold them for a long time because I can't help but defend myself from second timers. Second timers aren't fair because they tend to hit already bruised spots. They already know what the rough spots are. Like my heart.

And then my heart heals and I calmly sit down with it and just..chat..
Show me what this is. What this can be before I quietly run away, pocketing this change instead of the change you've managed to grant my eyes with: some sort of fearful amusement of a feeling. And I'd like to redefine this feeling, remove it from the universal jargon I once spoke fluently, but I stutter sometimes and sometimes is always enough to fail. I wish to not fail you --- but I might.


Pieces of me expand and contract daily depending on the company. Feeling like a solid, a liquid, and a gas all in the same room. I'm invisible to some, well known to others, and a secret to a select few. Who knew that Ashley was so many people wrapped up into one silly mess of a girl. I treck on.


Brilliance makes billions. Be rich.