I don't know how we get so far off the tracks, but the derailment... detour... makes it clear: we're all a little fucked up. Everyone's got baggage. We've all been hurt. Some more than others, but pain is pain. I met with someone today who'd been close to me for some time, and we communicated pain. The pain we caused, the pain we felt. It was terrible and perfect all at once, and I wanted to cry because I STILL communicate too late. Why do I run from love? I can blame so many things and people... my parents, my goals, my fears, all these things... but when it comes down to it, I have nothing to lose by loving, and no one to blame but myself. Rejection is out there, sure... so what? Abandonment is possible, of course, but I'm alone now, so what's the difference? And there's a great chance that he won't understand my passion, but he doesn't need to, does he? If he can love me, that should be enough. The next time around, I don't want to be afraid. I want to be so vulnerable and so unapologetically and crystal-clearly myself. I want to appreciate him, and let him know it. I want to wear my heart on my sleeve and put it in the hands of a gentle man. I have regrets for not letting love in. I have regrets for pushing away and insulting love offered. But I have no greater regret in love than this: not saying it out loud when I have felt it.

I want to be me. I don't want to misrepresent myself anymore by pretending I don't have interest in things or people that interest me. I'm not going to let the exterior mask the interior. Scripture tells me to guard my heart, but nowhere does it say hide it away, lock it up, freeze it, or keep it to myself. I want to be honest about my heart.

I wish it wasn't too late to say I love you. Even if I can't define it, I feel it. And though you'll never hear it from my mouth, I wrote it down. Honestly.