Block

The words have come easier than they do now

and maybe it's because I'm overheating in the basement of my dorm while waiting for the washing machine to finish with my first load of laundry,

and maybe it's because my anthropology textbook is sitting on the coffee table,

unopened,

and maybe it's because I've been thinking more about the attractive boys in my new ward that I haven't really talked to

because I'm good at justifying my antisocial tendencies

but it's probably mostly because I'm scared.

I'm scared that puzzling out my feelings for anyone

or anything

right now

could be potentially painful.

I've never had a high pain tolerance,

so I'm trying to avoid.

Maybe it's because I'm scared that it won't be painful.

Maybe if it isn't painful,

it means I was wrong the whole time.

Maybe I've always been wrong,

and the sun revolves around the earth

and the blue in the maps are the land and we are the ocean

and hearts were meant for only blood

and I've never actually loved

and

and

and

and

and

and I'll get over it
and I'm scared to get over it
and
and

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