Spelling bee candidates not allowed definition 

Everything is uncertain. I’m starting to wonder if my fight is for nothing. Here, but not wanted. I’ve always embraced changed. I’ve always allowed for things to be taken from me. I’ve allowed myself the luxury of giving up. At least I tried, right?

My capacity to tolerate an impermanence of happiness is shrinking by the moment. Shrinking by the dance. Shrinking by every glance. Shrinking by each good intention. Shrinking by the minuscule moments where WE are not lost in translation. 

I get discouraged. I feel love slip. Doubting chemistry and mistaking it for convenience. Maybe it’s just a fact that to do what I love I’ll always have to find doubts to be sad about. I’ll go on with this pain in my chest because ridding myself of it isn’t worth living one day knowing I loved less. I’ve never been good at lying, particularly to myself. 
So I’ll grow 

And I’ll learn

Then I’ll grow some more.

I’m selfish, but I won’t live a future of regret over actions I made as long as I know that I was trying my best. 

If you don’t like something change it. I’ll never accept an answer that makes no sense. 

I’ll argue, and yell, until my face turns from blue to a blushing shade of red. Next it’ll be your turn to fight, but for now let’s just enjoy passing the time. Doing whatever it takes to lower the stakes in choosing you, not over me, but over meaningless fantasies you choose to let linger. You know that at least for now we’ve found something as special and relentless as the actions that leave bite marks on your fingers. 

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