I can’t pretend that I’m not paranoid about how much of this paradise requires me to pretend.
I could leave the conflict behind, letting myself lose my inhibitions, like I always promised myself I’d do, when I was old enough to do so.
I won’t ever exchange who I’ve been for anyone more convenient, which is just as well, as you seem uncharacteristically enchanted by her anyway, so everything will be fine, if I can learn to give time a chance.
I like that you love the sound of my voice, even though you don’t seem to hear a word I say. I suppose it isn’t important, because I stop talking sense the second you look at me, anyway.
Do you understand?