Rantings of an Inner Child

Or at least he said so. I don’t really believe anything he says just because it’s really not in my personality to accept reality anyway.

Things are going well, he’s right, my mum’s right, I don’t have to worry about anything, I mean i can worry, but worry a little and then let it go - moving on is something I’ve been having a problem with because thinking makes everything else unbearable to go through - reading essays, working on projects and other essays. Nothing else seems to matter because thinking to much shakes the foundations of my being, rendering me someone else.

And so, taking it slow, doing other things that I enjoy ensure that I am always me. Let him think whatever he wants. Let me be confused as a fiddle. I am me, and he is he.