better than regrets

(Please note: this was written in March. It was also a draft sitting in my posts. I’ve decided to post it now for historic purposes.)

I’ve written somewhere around a dozen letters. Compiled with the work of hundreds of little notes and scribbles that cross my mind. I’ve written you a dozen letters that I’ve never sent. Out of obduracy, out of cowardice, out of humiliation but mostly out of fear. This post alone has been sitting as a draft because I faltered in trying to find the right words to type. I don’t know what is about you. Maybe it’s the visual of you that shakes me to my core. I can talk to you on the phone, text you and chat the day away, but seeing you, gazing at you… my words stumble in my head, my thoughts scatter and my throat is blocked by an invisible force. Even now, I as imagine you standing in front of me, I sit and stare at this blinking insert cursor. Mentally willing my hands to dance along my keyboard like a pair of Russian ballet dancers; one strikes and the other retreats, one impedes and the other concedes, not rudely but assertively. You are the ridiculous 11:11, the shooting star and the breath-held-during-the-tunnel wish. How many countless times have I played and practiced this conversation in my head? Give me your complications and misunderstandings. Why should I only be willing to accept one part of a whole?