All I want to do is curl up in a ball and when I wake up from years of sleep, demand it all solved. Relationships, parents, just life. Over analysis kills me. All I do is play through everything again and again until I'm in tears. Unable to move and not wanting to speak. Unwilling to do anything. Completely consumed and utterly confused.
Passers by assume it's the black clothing or standoffish attitude, but that's just the shell.. what everyone is allowed to see. If anyone dared venture beyond the facade they'd discover a lot more than what meets the eye or ear. But only those willing to see past such displays will ever come near understanding, though only few ever have or will.
Cam, I'd like to say, is one of those few. But the daggers are mine, not his, all along.