Poetry Collection: Nova Nuralda

I really do wish I was as simple as one two three. I wish I could grasp that idea of simple contentment, to almost be at the point of obtuse. But my fucking brain loves chaos a little too much. When something is as simple and wonderful as we are, my brain works overtime to over analyse and over anticipate all the possible scenarios. My favourite bit is when my brain creates anticipation and gear up with a rebuttal. It reminds me how fragile and scared I actually am most of the time, of most anything. But I would rather be evil than be disappointed. And if you are a person who has experienced grief and hideous sadness that these feelings morphed into a tired sigh of disappointment, you know how utterly devastating it is to be let down. By love, life, people, the things written in stone. Sadness is exhausting, disappointment is harrowing and traumatising. A combination of both mixed with loss is plain disgusting.