Nerves. They get me everytime. They get the best of me. Maybe it isn't even that. So what's stopping me? For some reason, the conversations lead up to almost spilling it out. It's itching to break out. Always. I think about how, I wonder when. Face to face? who knows. The words will come out, one day...
and then, I'm not that great. you say to me. I think you're pretty great. You haven't seen the real me. Show me then. I'm seriously standing on the edge, there's no more room for games. Gonna pull up my courage, one day now. It won't be another crumpled up paper thrown in the trash.

And in the end we'll be laughing...