Conciseness Is Underrated

It Was Like When You Ripped A Piece Of Paper Into Two: No Matter How You Tried, The Seams Never Fit Exactly Right Again.

Like I, Of All People, Didn't Know Better Than To Lead A Total Stranger To The Point Where They Could Hurt Me Most, Knowing How Easily They'd Be Able To Find Their Way Back To It.

It's A Choice, Annabel. And If You Make The Wrong One, You Have Only Yourself To Blame When There Are Consequences.

That Was The Thing: Once, The Difference Between Light And Dark Had Been Basic. One Was Good, One Bad. Suddenly, Though, Things Weren’t So Clear. The Dark Was Still A Mystery, Something Hidden, Something To Be Scared Of, But I’d Come To Fear The Light, Too. It Was Where Everything Was Revealed, Or Seemed To Be. Eyes Closed, I Saw Only The Blackness, Reminding Me Of This One Thing, The Most Deep Of My Secrets; Eyes Open, There Was Only The World That Didn’t Know It, Bright, Inescapable, And Somehow, Still There.

This Is The Problem With Dealing With Someone Who Is Actually A Good Listener. They Don’t Jump In On Your Sentences, Saving You From Actually Finishing Them, Or Talk Over You, Allowing What You Do Manage To Get Out To Be Lost Or Altered In Transit. Instead, They Wait, So You Have To Keep Going.