I am afraid. That maybe myths are true. And if they are, and if I prove that they are, then t'is the end of life as we have known it to be.
Praying on and on without a miss, but perhaps too late.
Which brings forth fear. Yes. Fear. But not remorse. Because although I am not ready, I will take it as it is.
So with all the symptoms, I go for the ultimate test. And I pray.
An adult action. An adult mistake. An adult consequences.
I am not an adult. I am only a girl.