And Oh, About That Thing

I am a man of many words. At the same time, I find it easier to speak with you here, and without the intrusion of fear or the worries that come with overthinking.
I am a man who can write what I think and get my point across.
(At least I like to think I am.)

It is not hard for me to find the words I have to say. However, and honestly, it can be hard to have my words come out the way I want them to.

I suppose this is why I prefer to meet you here, absent of the crowd and away from the times or places that add to my confusion.
I would prefer to express myself like this because I can speak without the defects of pride.
Do you understand?

I have enough scars. Besides, I earned my place at the table. I’ve swallowed enough pain and enough resentment to last a lifetime.
This is why I have built this place in my head.

I can let my ego rest and allow the guardians at the gates of my true soul to rest their spears, and lay down their shields and armor.
I have been this way since my earliest memories of childhood, which means that I am afraid that something about me is wrong, off-center, or off-putting. Thus, I have always been afraid that I will be discovered and that my truths will be unearthed and exposed.

I wore my images like uniforms and allowed my outrage to be my protector, to which I have seen violence and pain, firsthand. I have also watched beauty fade from life and become almost colorless like the lifeless look from a dying man’s skin.
I had to say goodbye to this. I had to realize that if it is within me to hate this much, then it is also within me to love just as equally, if not more.
The choice is always mine. However, so are the fears that kept me astray.

I believe most people call this insecurity.
However, I have always called this me

I am someone who can relate to rehearsing the things that I want to say to you, only I run into the challenges that come when my words do not come out as I planned.
I understand the confusion when my insecurities cause me to stutter or slip, or cause me to turn inward and next, my ego tries to recreate some kind of false bravado.
Next, my worries try to portray an image as if nothing can penetrate or scar me; whereas, the truth of the matter is I am more afraid of you than you are of me.
And I am weak. I am timid.
As loud as I seemed and as outward as I pretended to be, I admit that this was my way to isolate in plain sight.
The truth is I am petrified that I am no good, or worse, I am painfully afraid that I am not good enough. Therefore, there will always be something about me that keeps me alone, unloved and unreachable. Even worse; my biggest fear is that I will always be unwanted and unlovable because, of course, how can anyone love me if I fail to allow them?
Or elsewise, how can anyone love me when I am too worried, or too afraid to lose them, or in addition to all my fears and inaccurate worries about me and how I look (or seem), how can I believe in love or love myself when I believe that I am either unlovable or unworthy to be loved at all?

I used to hold this like a crooked dagger, double-sides and sharp.
But not anymore.

And oh, about that thing?
Or about the times when I practiced my speech, or about the times when I rehearsed what I was going to say in the mirror; and oh, about the times when I was in the moment, and oh, yeah, about the times when there was nothing between us but space and opportunity—yes, I admit it.
I froze. I gave in.
I was out of my head.

I allowed the irrational worries to take center stage, which determined my next move that acted in accordance with my fears that somehow, you and I would never work or be “okay.”
At the same time, I have to admit this.
I have to say this now, even at risk to expose the vulnerability of truth and emotion.

There are moments in my life, led by you, and led simply like a child would play a game of follow the leader or Simon Says, and to this I admit there are moments in my life, great as ever, amazing, loving, beautiful, like the sunset in summertime, and there are moments that were limitless and boundless and yes, there were times when I was not afraid or thinking about the impending doom, which is how I knew that love is not only real, but love is possible as well.

At the same time, what do I do if I lose you?
What do I do if you look me over and change your mind?
Or what will happen if you dig deeper and see the unwashed blood or the filth beneath my fingernails?

Or what happens if you find yourself bored of me?
What do I do then?

I can remember the times when I was young, or much too young to understand the benefits of a mutual crush.
I swore that I needed to be a certain way. I swore that I needed to have a sway or a walk, or a lean.
I can also remember the times when I lacked the nerve to say what I wanted and so, I remember picking up the drink and hence, when the time came, I was out of my head. Next, I ruined the moment or crossed a line, or I acted in a way that was too wild because, again, I was out of my head, and too afraid to say what I really wanted to say.

I remember a night in the field behind one of the schools in my town. I was out of my head. And I remember the times when I had the chance to show myself — but I couldn’t.
I was out of my head and mind. More importantly, I was out of the running to be someone who could lay back, and hold someone’s hand, and be comfortable with the intimate silence while the sun goes down.

I often wonder if I am too late to be discovered or to be loved. I often wonder if I have damaged myself in a way that life and love in the same sentence is irreparable, and thus, healing is neither possible or likely.

Maybe trauma wins.
Or, maybe this plea can be sent out into the universe and my honesty can allow me to gain some ground.
Or maybe . . .
I’m out of my head (again) and too afraid that something about me is wrong, or off-center, or so off-putting that no matter how amazing things can be, it’s only a matter of time before the bottom falls out, and then it’s all over.

Do you understand what it’s like to think this way?

Do you know what it’s like to love someone so much that you wish you could say hey, this is me.
Don’t listen to the other bullshit.
I don’t mean to be crazy.
I’m just a kid who never went to the dance before.
This is me
and it might not be much,
but I can be all yours. . .

if you’d have me.