The wait of the world.

No one tells you that when life happens, it doesn't stop happening.

I suppose I should elaborate on this statement.

When you're exposed to something, there's no dis-exposure. It's a chemical reaction. It's a scrambling of an egg.
It's the baking of a cake, maybe one you want to have as well as eat. Coming up from a pretty low low can be...well...slowed if not completely impeded by the lowness of the low, the novelty, the recency. It's hard to say things are good when there's something always a hidden still-recovering section of you in the back of your mind.

But it's hard to say things are bad when you're only in the meantime.

I'm mixing my feelings here. I'm mixing emotions and thoughts and events, but I know I'm just hiding from something very obvious that is happening to me. I hide behind all this cryptic nonsense because I am afraid to archive the truth knowing that in the very near future, it could change, and as counterintuitive as it may be, I fear inconsistency.
I am afraid of changing something that isn't harming me in order to gain something that could make me a happier person, because there is more to be considered than just how I feel. I am afraid of inflicting harm, because I am afraid of guilt.
I am afraid of the selfish person that I'm being.

I'm in a situation that's hard to get out of.
I wish I could stay here.

But I fear regression.

I have come to the conclusion that life doesn't stop happening once fear is involved. Fear perpetuates life.
Life perpetuates regression.

I'm still living, still learning
Despite fear, I still know that the grass is green.