I’m anxious.
It’s a general type that scares me.

Although it’s not general.

I rarely open this website if it doesn’t involve love.
It’s become my little secret outlet.
The true feelings come out here before I can write them in a diary.
The gut instincts appear in anxiety sentences in this box before I believe them.
So I guess what I’m really trying to ask right now -
Is this enough?
Will it ever be enough?

So much guilt from unproductive time.
I love an idle Saturday.
But somehow I can’t avoid hating myself for taking one.

I like being really tired before going to sleep.
It feels good to fight one last thing before bed, even if that thing is me.

After all of this time.
All these years.
I still have such a lust for possibility.
I still love the dream.
I still love working towards it.
Life is too big to dream small.

I think one of my issues with relationships is that I’ve seen them as a destination.
Instead of a climb.
A point to get to instead of a path to take with a friend.
The journey is the fun part.

Look, at the end of the day.
I’m just simply horrified,
That my married friends think it impressive,
That a woman sleeps with her husband 4x a week.
I’m too young to think that old.

You came up to Tahoe for the weekend.
I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone as nice and thoughtful as you.
I’ve never felt so cared for.
It made me feel overwhelmed.
Uncomfortable even.
How cared for I felt.
It made me want to push away.

Everything I want.
But I’m squirming in your affection.

I realize I wouldn’t squirm if you pulled away.
If you back burnered me.
If you acted like you didn’t care.

I would instead run towards you.
Trying to be wanted.
To win your affection.

I won and I don’t know how to accept it.
I don’t know how to hold you.
To accept the love I keep trying to earn.

I put a hoodie on when I’m high.

I have a hoodie on.
And I’m thinking about you.