She was never more confused.
The sun gave her comfort and it was only a Saturday, why now.
Her timing is all off.
Its like making your bracket in April. It's like preforming a song then looking at the dynamics. Like planting a apple tree in the winter, but expecting to get an apple next week.
There seems to be no hope. Glimpses make her realize how weeks can change everything. And when you keep what you really want to say bottled up inside stuck you will get nowhere.
But it's hard to let it out. Silence seems like the best option, no of course she isn't playing the quiet game 24/7. But Lucky paper gets to know whats up, because she is fearful of what would happen if she let what she felt come out.
Its a journal, a few years old, but that doesn't matter. Words, words of what is really going on are in there. They don't want to be scratched into a page they want to be roaming out loud. But she won't let them go free, there she sits hoarding them in because its a better place for them then out where the world can see what she really thinks. That's not true.
But there's nothing she can do(es), so there she sits.
Sincerely, Paislee Jane
