I write about things to bring them to light. To make them real.

And if you’re wondering why I haven’t written about you yet, it’s because I’m afraid to.

I am scared to write about you because then you’ll shift from a possibility to a reality. I write about things that make me feel. I write about my feelings to process. I write about my feelings to understand what’s going on in my life. I write about my feelings to get clarity.

But I find that when I do this, I can sometimes end up overthinking everything and getting myself to a place of fear–Fear of falling. Fear of your response. Fear of becoming broken again. Fear of breaking you. Fear of literally anything that can happen.

I didn’t want to write about you. I wasn’t fully ready for this to become real.

I’m scared. I’m afraid I’ll end up talking myself out of the idea of you. I am scared that one day you’ll give up and won’t come back, because this time I’ve run a little too far.

I’m torn between the different parts of my heart and mind.

Part of me wants to let you in my little world, but part of me is too stuck in my independence. Part of me wants to trust the idea of you, but part of me trusts myself a little too much. Part of me is perfectly fine being alone, but part of me desires to share life with someone. Part of me is scared of all the factors that go into this, but part of me believes there could be something greater if we looked past those things.

So here I am, writing about you. I didn’t mean to, but I guess that’s what happens when you have a writer that is also a feeler. This is me saying I’m going to try. I am going to try to remove myself from control, no matter how difficult that may be. I like control, I like to know what is going on. But we both know who is in control, and it’s not us.

So this is me removing myself. This is me validating my feelings, and not running from them. Or, trying not to. This is me processing, but also knowing myself. This is me recognizing the circumstances, but allowing it to take it’s natural course for once.

The last person I let in my life hurt me. He fueled all of my articles about heartbreak. He challenged me and he unknowingly made me fall away from the most important things I clung to. No matter how hard I try to shut those thoughts out, they resurface each and every time I think about starting something new.

So maybe it’s not you that makes me hesitate, but that it’s me. Me knowing myself, knowing that I lose myself in others extremely easily. I have spent nearly two years trying to build myself back up, and I’m scared of losing my security again.

I can’t say I know when I will write about you again. I can’t say when because I don’t know if I’m ready for this to be real. I can’t say I even know what I feel for you. But what I can say is this is my first step.

This is me declaring that I’m open to the possibilities. I’m open to loosen my grip on control. I’m open to stay put and not sprint away for once. I’m open to take whatever this is slow. I’m open to guard my heart, but not fence it in. I’m open to hearing you out and giving you a chance.

For the record, you’re worth way more than a chance. And that is precisely why I am afraid to write about you.

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