A word spoken into exsitance has the power to tear me down but I can’t let it. I know it would be better to take it back but I lost the flavor and now can remember what it was like before. This word gives meaning when there wasn’t any. Bringing to life things that I should have just let die but I can’t. It is a curse to go back and give it away. Cracks appear on my mind because I decided to trust this broken word with a broken meaning. Leaving me spinning. Telling tall tales about how I have courage to defeat my own creation. But I guess I am paitent.

I guess I am just that paitent.