This is the best it will be. We get into messes, an unintentional fuck you to the balance that brings us contentedness.
In vulnerability we unearth our greatest courage.
This life, these instances, were seperate from my existance. Disparate, randomly inserted into the quoditian discomforts of life. Pieces of myself, extracted into compartments of shame and physicality, of love and need. This relationship is my outlet - comfortable because of its limits. It is easy to be vulnerable when all that you are testing are the confines of your own boundaries.
But this is my life, and the disjointed glimpses into another world, briefly illuminating something greater, cannot sustain me any longer.