It's raining. The clouds are covering any shimmer of sunshine that could dare to show. My stomach feels like a thousand knots curled up inside itself getting tighter and tighter every moment. I finally got it off my chest, but my stomach cannot say the same. I don't know the reaction I'll get, I don't know what's going to happen. This could be the worst or the best, but it had to be said, it had to be written for my eyes to see. Regrets? I don't know. My hands are shaking as if these hands have felt the quivering years of wisdom. These hands are scared as if they have found the fear of a small child bound to a monster. Waiting, waiting to wait for this stomach of mine to ease and swoon into a love of peace. Waiting for these hands to be held with comfort. I hope the waiting ends.
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