Sometimes I find myself writing carefully, too carefully…afraid of judging readers who question my sadness or happiness, being too much of one or the other. I have been in relationships where I have felt the same..always holding back..afraid of showing too much self. These are the loneliest of relationships to be in. And yet I stayed there, believing that one kind of loneliness was better than other. It is not so.
So today, if I were to write honestly and fearlessly, I would say that I am afraid. I would tell you that I fear the love I seek doesn’t exist and that I have likely given up trying anyhow. I would list my despair in line of questions, the first being, “how much of this is real?”
Perhaps the cold and the rain have gotten to me. Perhaps my fear has become too palpable and my sleep too little. Or maybe I have forgotten the feeling of being of loved…and wonder if I will ever feel it again.