A Painful Revision

Nervous anticipation: it bubbles in the deepest part of myself, eroding my mind and slowly pulling me further and further in. I can hardly speak, for fear that the words leaving my mouth will transform the minute others can see them; slowly turning into another repeated complaint and thus betraying myself. I cannot bear to face the future head on, for fear that the inevitable changes will fully reveal themselves to me, and in that moment of breathtaking clarity I will find myself incapable of enduring the trials I will face. For in the future I will have only myself to carry through, and only my troubled mind on which to lean. Though opening up to others has become an easier task than ever before, I fear that once I have left this comfort zone I've created, the barrier of subtle animosities that accompany new faces will be increasingly painful to overcome; and despite my lonely state, it will become a greater solace to withdraw rather than branch out.

Thoughts can only be revised once, and if the first revision is lost it is nothing short of a painful brunt, for the revision cannot be recreated: each new revision represents what one felt at the minute it was revised...

and through some foolish blunder it was lost.