Anniver/dsaries, Co-creation

/Authors note: The post date reflects the actual date and time of original posting. I had to take this down for editing-not something I normally do, but there was some emotionally charged asides that don't reflect my actual intent or feelings, and have since been changed or removed./

I need sleep, but my mind cries out for writing.

Is this a good thing? I'm not sure if I have words, but it seems my brain has other ideas.

I've been trying so hard to get out of my own skull, to stop living in my head. My constant refrain, these past few weeks, has been a plea for the ability to speak, to open up without airs. I'm making progress. I felt tonight almost the way I did that first night.

There's a lot more of a shared experience than I realized. I like this, I really like this, but I still feel like a deer in headlights. Things are unsustainable the way they stand. I wish I could understand my own thought on this matter. I'm waiting for a moment of boldness to strike, but it seems that whenever there is opportunity, I lack the ability, and vice-versa.

I have the capability to be bold when the moment calls for it, to be sure. I have been able, in my life, to take full advantage of these moments. The hopeless romantic inside me yearns for them: a stolen kiss in the warm Autumn night amidst the background din; a soft hand under midwinter chill with the glow of an old favorite. Even the impromptu vacation 6 hours away after writing a letter to a rock star.

Here's my theory:

You're just as scared as I am. Your guard is always up, but I know the stories, just as you've heard the ones I have to tell. You're scared to let me see you a little unhinged; you're afraid it will change my opinion. Afraid that I won't take you seriously.

I'm here to tell you, if this is the case, that you're wrong. I hope this is the case. I hope I'm right.

Why do I have the audacity to make such claims? Where does this theory come from?

Because it's exactly what I'm feeling. I'm scared beyond belief.

"How do you hurt a man who's lost everything? You give him back something broken."

Broken, though, is always the thing for which I've looked so hard. Somebody who understands that the world isn't kind or cruel, that decisions impact life constantly. At the end of the day, it's the broken people who know how it feels to be knocked down; thus they also know how to get back up. They know how to care.

They know how to help.

I want to do something bold. I want to break this wall that we've managed to erect between us. I want to dispense with all the pretense.

I want to take a chance.

But most of all,

I want you to tell me it's ok.

Because, believe me, it really is.