don't hold my hand while you drive, it makes for dangerous things.

i am strung out on the multitude of words in the english dictionary that could describe all the thoughts running through my head on a minute by minute play by play. i know you missed my colorful, nervous ramblings where i wrung my hands and chewed my nails and my voice quavered like i was about to cry with every word i spoke. every word was painful then. so much had been ripped from my throat, my vocal cords sore and sad. i was a damaged little bird, awkward and despondent. life was not something to live. life was a ticking bomb of when i was going to die. don't you miss this little ray of fucking sunshine?