It is definite. I need sleep to function optimally; without sufficiency of the subject, I am enervated, less able to glance off mishaps.
Life was full of meaning, and suddenly it is not.
I must not close myself to the world.
It is always my first instinct, when faced with adversity, to retract into myself; much as a mimosa would shy away from oppression; like shielding a wound from further injury.
Why, then, is being open considered vital? It seems to me that it exposes you; further strengthens your vulnerability; and yet, if closed, the wound festers.
I need someone to tell me the difference between being strong, and not listening to your body.
Someone who will last. Someone who won't fade.
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