Sabotage

I can write.

I can express my feelings and thoughts through the written word.

My heart is revealed, my mind is exposed, and my deepest desires unfold before my own eyes.

So, why can't I talk to him? Why can't the same words in my mind that flow so freely through my fingertips, make their way through my lips?

I cry. I stumble. I can't make proper eye contact. I say half of what I mean. It is vague. It is silly. It comes out wrong. I cry some more.

I trust him. I am scared. I am scared because I am scarred. My fear pushes him away. It casts doubt.

He is the future that can erase my past.

The irony. Words. My gift. My nemesis.