There it is again, that sinking feeling I get every time you’re around. Just you walking into a room makes me feel weak, even more so when you smile.
As much as I hate feeling this way though, it’s worse when you’re not there; when I’m lying in my bed and a sinking feeling of a different kind haunts me. Whispering stories about my future in my ear, and tempts me to tell you how I feel.
But another voice holds me back, with hushed warnings and whispers, telling me I could ruin what we have rather than attain what I want.
It’s like I’m stuck in Quicksand, with no way out.