The truth shall settle.

Our truth is our individual gift to the world around us. Who are we to deny someone the growth that may be incurred from the truth? Do we really like disrespecting ourselves by not speaking up and speaking out what we know to be true?
Truth requires speaking out from that vulnerable place inside that feels something, then usually edits down into silence and transforms into rage.
The truth takes balls.

So here are mine:

I'm afraid of losing you and I really need you to know that.

I've fallen in love with you.

You give me butterflies.

I feel scared and unworthy of what the future has in store for us.

I like to watch you smoke from the sliding door in the back yard. I enjoy the silence of your silhouette.

I'm afraid that if you know truthfully that I'm not as tough as I look on the outside you'll leave me.

You take my breath away.

I feel disconnected from you at times.

I love the way your skin feels bare and close to mine.

I feel like you talk at me, and not really to me depending on how you feel about the topic of conversation.

I day dream about the day you ask me to marry you.

I don't want the story of your past to become the story of our present.

Every time I see a rose I smile once for you and once for the beauty in it and in you.

It bothers me that you let other people become you and you allow them to separate you from those that you love.

When I look into your eyes, you're insides and mine are in deep conversation.

I don't think you really believe that we are going to make it.

I constantly ask myself how I fell so deeply, so madly and so unexpectedly.

I think that by being with me deep down inside you feel like you are settling cause you know you could do better.

I really do have separation anxiety.

When we say goodbye it always feels like its going to be the last time I'm ever going to see you.

I fear that you have the ability to do what is least expected so I'm kept on my toes and I carefully watch my step.

I tread carefully because I'm afraid that you are able to easily carry on without me.

I'm scared to buy you things because I'm afraid you'll give them back to me one day when you leave me.

I worry that you'll forget me.

I ask myself what will be of me if I become part of your story, part of your past.

When I think about us, I see a series of old Polaroid pictures with captions.

I have nightmares that I'm waking barefoot on a beach full of eggshells instead of sand and in this dream you're on a sailboat and you don't see me or the eggshells.

I think about the things you've said to me when you've been upset. I know you didn't mean them, but the words are heavy and they haven't fully lifted from my insides.

I still think of her.

Sometimes I feel like the more honest I am with you the less you believe in us and the easier it is for you to walk away.

I'm afraid of losing you and I really need you to know my truths.

Setting myself free,
Me.