Day 29 - The person you want to tell everything to, but too afraid to

Hey you.

I wish I could tell you everything: my biggest fears, my true feelings, my constant worries, my overwhelming thoughts and dreams, my ins and outs, my flaws, my self-conscious parts, my every thought about you, and how much I really care.

I want to. So so much. But something prevents me. Perhaps it's worry, perhaps it's trust. Perhaps it's my trepidations to give you every part of me and expect not to be broken. Or perhaps it's just me.

Sometimes the words are on the tip of my tongue - the whole dam of everything I want to tell you is trying to burst out. But my tongue and brain are the strongest levees. And they are sometimes my worst enemies.

I want you to know everything, but I can't let you bear all of that, nor can I let myself unleash it all and then deal with the afterthoughts: the guilt of putting all of that on your shoulders, the worries of being hurt, the fear of you knowing everything and changing your opinion of me.

Maybe you'll learn some of the things I want to tell you. Eventually. But until the mountain of words can crush my iron-clad tongue and brain, I hope you will just be there, and know that I want nothing more than for you to know me. The whole me.

I want to tell you.
But I can't.
I'm sorry.