The ups and downs seem to lull me into a placid state of staring. It seems so strange and I can't put my finger on how I was taken by storm and tossed into the rocks of my own heart and mind. They're not as soft as I would have liked. I'm riding a crest and then feeling like the bottom is about to surface.
And words go through me, some of them sticking, like warmth, on my ribs. And I wonder how. Again. How? Again? Perfect words. They almost seem crafted, tailor made for me. A daughter wandering amidst the whiles. Why the whiles?
Then I find myself in low-lit places with the lights in my head flashing patterns of light on the ceiling and I lay there staring.
Just staring.
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