Who makes the rules for these kinds of projects anyway? A repeat isn’t a repeat if I have different things to say, right?
For my birthday, I asked the universe for some comfort. Warm arms and baking pies and anything that can keep me from feeling like I am flailing.
After a season of men who can’t make up their minds or do and decide I should fit a role I don’t want, it took a hot minute, a step back, and a few nights of solitude to keep from running. I’m sorry – it’s been more than a little while since I’ve met anyone unafraid of feeling feelings and what they might mean.
Oh, you. You walk through the door, and suddenly, my life is all Dashboard Confessional and wine.
How very unexpected.
There is some fire between you and I that I haven’t quite decided is dangerous or not. But I suppose there is only one way to find out.
You’ve already been warned. I make mistakes. And when I make them, I go all in. I do not remotely have it together. But I am trying. And I am smiling my way through the climb.
I see that in you, too. That’s probably been the biggest surprise so far. You try as hard as I do. You care too much, and you’ve been taken advantage of because of it.
That’s probably why you’ve heard all my baggage… and it’s nothing.
No shock. No surprise, even. Just the acknowledgement that it’s made me me to you, for you, and wow, aren’t we lucky?