I’ve often been unimpressed by my levels of tolerance.
V and I can’t go for more than a night if we’re in a fight.
I need a warm body to cuddle, if you asked me, that was why I signed up for marriage.
For a hugger.
If I’m in a rift, I need it resolved or I’m out.
I need a cleaner like most people need their coffee.
Aru has taught me more patience for somethings, loud noises, cranky crying, tolerance for compromise and messiness.
But he’s also taken away my tolerance for an emotional imbalance.
Where I could once keep up with the drama,
I no longer have any room for it.
The wardrobe of my mind is sitting at a neat capacity and it says “eject” whenever any drama tries to insert itself within.