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Do not wear your mood on your face.
Chalk that up to abandonment issues and being the oldest child. A perfect storm of never feeling good enough, while also refusing to be seen as weak for needing anyone’s help.
Who takes care of the eldest daughter? She looks after her own damn self.”
“Sage is like the horses who fight and run because they ain’t got a single bit of evidence to prove they should give their trust to you.” He muses, eyes drifting to where his girl tosses her head back with laughter. “Be honest. Tell her how you feel as soon as fucking possible. Chop your heart out and hand it over on a goddamn plate if you need to. Because if she’s worth it like you say, then you don’t even need the damn thing anymore. What good is it doing sitting like a lump of stone behind your ribs? If it belongs to her, it belongs to her, and she needs to know that without a single
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Every single complicated layer of ingrained fear tore through me at that moment. Being unwanted, abandoned, the gnawing sensation of only ever having a temporary seat at the table. Why would anyone want the wild child, the troublemaker, the girl who can’t keep her mouth shut?
