Spells that get weaker the longer they take...but I wait.

It doesn't hurt anymore, love that is stubborn and becomes a part of who you are.

Sometimes I think there are two kinds of people in the world: People who can't stand to be examined by others, to be put under a microscope, and those who like it.
I'm the latter, not because I care what people think, but because whether I'm being criticized or praised, it's nice to get attention every once in a while.

Someone was discussing me with me last night...well, not really discussing. They were talking and I was listening. This is someone I've known all my life who was citing me as an example that people do change over time.
My hotheadedness, the way I seemed to elude others intentionally, seemed to be translated into an opposing force in a strangely reasonable way. In tiring of my own stubbornness, anger, and loneliness, I now give gifts without an occasion to merit them. I am overly generous not just in this regard, but with myself. I am overprotective of what is mine, both material and animate.
This excess of attention placed on those I care about causes paranoia when it is not returned. Normal amounts of consideration seem insincere and obligatory.

Just one person's opinion, but still an opinion I could be hurt by if I allowed myself to be.
Instead, I chose to embrace it and find beauty in truth.

It explains much about me:
Why not hearing from certain people for only a day or two is painful, and why I'm ashamed of this neediness and hide it, perhaps causing myself more pain in the end.
Why anyone who I find interesting who pays me even the smallest amount of attention is deified and missed greatly whenever I'm alone.
And because I'm still a bit stubborn, these feelings, these people, become harder to let go.
Why I love them more than myself and more than some I see every day and why I sometimes feel alone in the presence of others.

Sometimes I miss the old Ash, the one who'd sock you before she'd hug you, because for me, this change, this "improvement" in myself came too late. Perceptions of people don't often change and being this overly sensitive person does me no good now. In being insensitive and even vicious, at least I was able to pretend I was content.