As I lay here on this bed I've been missing for the past month... I feel an anchor. If it did not feel right to stay, then why do I find myself wishing I was someplace else tonight? Is this a feeling I always had and did not acknowledge or am I just different this time around?
I genuinely thought I had nothing much to say, or nothing left to say. It was only when I stared out of the window last night as the plane rolled out of its bay that I realised I still had tears to shed along with words of honesty.
I don't particularly wish for someone else there to hear me out. More than anything, I wish I was there to hear me out.
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