Scared, so scared.

Of saying the wrong thing. Of picking the wrong words. Of offending, of hurting. Of frustrating. Of letting words flow from the heart but having them smashed apart right in the millisecond after they’ve been spoken by the brain. Making the choice between a fake existence and a real one. Thinking about all you thought you could be, alone and together. Of moments of boundless perfection and times when you thought nothing could stop you together. Not knowing what to do. Scared of not being happy enough, but also not being honest enough. Scared of being too dependent on one person, but afraid of living without the same person. Scared of making yet another mistake. Thinking of what to say beforehand, and sticking to the script, but somehow – lost in translation, perhaps. And another mistake.

Though the idea of someone knowing what’s going on in your brain is the sickest thing you can think of and one you would never ever have, in these moments you wish it was possible. Possible to have the other person know what’s going on and what you want – because you’ll never be able to say it.

Once a coward, always a coward.

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