Dear Madame Poet,
Please stop fucking me with your words.Your un-lubed clarity of the inside of my soul leaves me shivering.
Quivering in anticipation of the next few syllablesThat you throw inside of me
Causing me to explodeUnlike any man ever could
I thought that having people to encourage me and push me beyond my comfort zone would help. I just wanted to get up the nerve to tell someone that I really like them, even if friends was all it would ever be… because I am not sure I know how to be more than that.
I experienced a mild panic attack. Just thinking about clothes.
So the entire mission needs to be aborted.
I don’t know if I can survive those attacks again. I just got myself to the point where I could control them before they happened and this one, mild as it was, punched me in my fucking throat.
My feelings are on high.
Is it crazy that life being too short is EXACTLY the reason I have no intentions on telling my crush that they are the object of my affection?
I mean seriously, the argument could be made saying that I have nothing to lose. However, I see that there is so much to lose. Making things awkward could just kill any hope at a potential friendship which is really all I am equipped to deal with in the first place. You can never be too sure who can appreciate the idea of a crush and not make it out to be the end of the world or the beginning of forever.
I am leaning heavily towards letting nature take its course. If it is meant to be there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it from happening. I am not planning on fighting it. I simply don’t want to make the mistake of skipping steps.
Does that make any sense?