i should have said yes,
"Putting yourself out there" might be one of the most difficult sentences to live.Visualize, scratched records, on repeat, ruffled edges, and, live we must. But must we force emotion under rugs from past transgressions, molding bittersweet edges, and barricaded walls? Why is it, we speak of change and, letting go, and learning as if it were the nutrients we cling to, to keep breathing, yet when mirrored with the burden of doing the work, we flee? You see, I've been ostracizing myself through lessons unkept, to learn how to learn something, anything, what was this meant for? Cards laid out, bill-collectors the time has come to pay your debts and move forward. Intuition as the distinct currency, you see I've worked very hard at building these walls and you expect me to bring them down tonight? Willingly? But, I'm safe over here. I can see the moon just fine from this side even if the new sun seems a bit more distanced. You see, putting yourself out there, might be the most significant sentence you'll learn through. And, the more insight I've become opened to, the harder it is to, live on this side of the wall. But, all of this work I've done, its made me tired. And, now I'm expected to build a stronger backbone, more volumptuous muscles in search of clearer pastures? You see, I'm afraid, of what lies on the other side. This side feels, so much more homey. I've begun hanging pictures on the wall of memories I'm starting to see less clearly. I've, cooked between-the-line dinners on this side, slept in unkept beds, still harboring the scent of, when, danced to ideas inside of my head, and now I'm expected to change my address? As if, this comforted state of familiarity no longer nourishes me? You see, I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to change addresses, put one foot, two in front of the other as my shadow still lives within the nostalgic realm of yesterday. You see, I'm not sure if I'm fully ready to open the door I locked with a thousand keys, and let you in for drinks. I think I purposely misplaced the keys some years back, anyway. Do you know, how much digging I'll need to do in order to find these rusty keys and, begin unlocking? Would you promise to be on the other side, once I've managed to muster the energy and "put myself out there"? I guess that would defeat the purpose, the promises. You see, this skin of mine has fingerprints of people I'm not sure I'd be ready to wipe completely clean of, just yet. Would you hold my hand as I begin meshing yours with the others? Is that unfair? Aren't we all a bit unfair at times? Aren't we all faulted with homes harboring too many addresses? So many novels left, unfinished?