The first time I put myself out on a limb was when I was naive and I didn't know how fragile a tree can really be. I was way in over my head before I knew how deeply I could drown, I let my heart race before I knew what he would think when he heard the sound, and I held on too tightly before I knew how strong my hands were. I drowned for months, my heartbeat so slow as it was hard to let go and get a grip at the same time.
The second time I decided to take a chance, I monitored every movement I made. I detached myself from every feeling and kept to myself. I didn't know where I was going with that and maybe I was still holding tightly to something else. The grip was looser but I didn't want to keep it there, so I tried to grab something else. I was lucky to have never been able to reach.
This time around, I've completely let go. Well, maybe. That first hand I held is hard to deny, though it isn't my hand to hold.
"I miss you a lot," he said.
"I miss you a lot too," I say back. I didn't lie.
Sure, I think about that old hand a lot, but I think about your hand more. I want to dive in again but I don't want to drown this time. I'm scared of misinterpreting the way you look at me and the things that you say and all of the things you've done for me. My worst fear is to find out that it's all been in my head this entire time. Ultimately, I'm scared.
I'm scared because I expect the worst, but my hopes have the best of me.
