Locking me inside this house isn’t going to limit me— it’s going to suffocate me. And when you’re under the water and you’re desperate for air, you will do just about anything to survive. I don’t like it here anymore. It’s killing me; the tension, the sermons, everything.
I don’t say the right words. There are no right words. They are only what we think is fitting but never accurate. Everything is an attempt to get the right mix. But you do that not to create the perfect juice but just to squeeze the juice out of yourself.
