journal · letter

Potential Panic


Whenever I see you, I’m filled with this muffled sense of panic. The air goes static with potential, like anything could happen. But nothing ever does and that’s part of the panic, too. That the culmination of both my fears and my hopes will end up being nothing at all. So what do I do, T? When failure is the consistent and constant resolution of all possibilities. Leave this behind? It’d probably serve me better, since you’ve already written me off. But can I? It sounds so cliche to say that only time will tell…

But it will,


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