As grounded as can be.

Feelings are so magnificent if you ask me. They're also the Devil's advocate. They pull hard on pressure points, bruise your knuckles a little, allow way too much thought into the deepest parts of our souls. That kinda scares me. You know, to have that much access to the depths of oneself. I use to find comfort in not knowing why I felt so passionate about the flowers that grew by my school path. Or why saying "Thank you" to the bus driver was such a big part of my journey. I found thrill in falling in love with people's characteristics, people's passions. Overnight, I had gathered up all my defenses and wrapped my hands with intentions. I had become a slave to the ability to feel something without asking for anything in return. I had prioritized my time into this ridiculous amount of happiness I had suddenly attained. And it tugged it's way through my veins. It grew vines around my ribs and blossomed flowers amongst my breasts. That's the type of care that scares the living shit outta me. The type where you know that beauty is only felt through brown, kind eyes. And that's when I knew that those roots had found its way into my pressure points.