I'm reminded of my first Bird in a Cage poem, though I'm no longer referring to aspiration.
I feel like I live in a bubble by which I'm trapped and rendered childish, ignorant, oblivious, and delusional.
And yet I don't want to leave this bubble. I'm realizing that there are some messed up things and fucked up people abounding, and that I'm not prepared for this scary world. I want to withdraw into my shell of antisocialness, my cave of a bedroom whose safety is never to be left, and this bubble in which I'm much too trusting yet trust no one but myself.
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