Stick the landing. Always stick the landing.
You’re in the process of reconstructing your identity and everything you found safety in from the ground up, but don’t skip a beat. Don’t falter, don’t mess up, ever. Don’t look at the warning signs, they’ll only slow you down.
Go to work every day, embrace the extra hours and effort of the side hustle. Bright, perfect, productive, organized, happy, put-together.
Devastated yet friendly and patient.
Exhausted yet your performance remains flawless. Keeping it up rips away pieces of your soul, but you’re used to burning.
Capable, necessary, punctual. The list only grows longer, harder, more complicated, but no one will be able to tell you’re consumed by panic. You’ve been doing this for so long it’s an art form.
You can’t accept the alternative, so you choose self-destruction over mediocrity.
You fear that you can’t rely on anyone. Love is convenience. If you want something done right, do it yourself.
You left fundamentalism because you wanted to be human.
But this doesn’t seem much different, does it?
You’re still trying to be a machine.
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A/N: Bad habits die hard, and had to face a few of mine this week.
Odonata 