Aged four I learnt the hard way when i rumaged through her bedroom drawers to satisfy my curiosity, only to find (in my absolute horror) the wicked witch from my Snow White toy set- hidden away for my own peace of mind by my mother; SNOOPING ONLY ENDS IN SORROW.
Today Im somehow still regularly haunted by the same feeling I had that day, that heart sinking feeling of terror, upset and guilt caused by my own curiosity and insistant need to know all. Im still searching where I shouldn't, just like when I was four.
To ease the pain, atleast I knew the truth. I found what was hidden in those drawers that day, and since then Ive been answering puzzles in my own mind by snooping-regardless of the terrible suprises. It's like I know theres something there to be found, so it seems rude not to be curious.
It's pretty much an invite. An invite for the mind at the least, to wander and open the doors of possible answers. Locking every bit of you away, and not trusting me with the keys, asking me to wander down those oh so familiar dark paths, as to why you would need to control what is portrayed in such elaborate depths; when I could easily be un-knowlegeable and at ease if you didnt hesitate break those locks you so tightly keep.
You'd rather break my wrist than let me know that 4 digit.
And the worst of it is, you wont even read this as you dont actually give a shit. Even though I always listen and care about everysingle word you spit.
HA i just realised that ryhmed perfectly. CringeCringeCringe. Jokes.
