Teetering. Is that a word?

I feel like I’m teetering.

Truthfully? I want go over and get back together with T and just do wicked, but amazing things. Screw my parents, screw everyone else.

I can still feel my blood boil at the thought of it and I just don’t know what to do about it. Calling him an old man and using a threatening tone does not make things any better.

Ask me again if I’m hanging out with him. Ask me. You are not going to like the answer. 

I so want to embrace a silent rebellion and just hand myself over to him, no clothes on. Everything.

But I know that in rebellion, I may just be jeopardizing my own sanity and life and that is when I teeter back to reality and teeter so closely to depression, again.