I can’t write. I can’t write because I can’t compile my thoughts. I find it so upsetting. Such an uphill battle, this internal war I’m directing between my heart and my mind. I fall too fast, too quick, I’m too honest, too open, completely transparent. All qualities I’ve embraced and fought for as long as I can remember. I really love. Love in the way that I love the world, including the stranger on the corner who smiled at me. Love like my deep obsession for rice krispie treats and a good cup of coffee. I am simply a person who loves. This doesn’t discredit my character, it doesn’t mean I’m weak, and it doesn’t mean that I can’t or won’t love deeper each opportunity I get to love again.
Love is terrifying… a complied mess of beauty, emotions, and fear.
As it turns out, I love being scared.