It’s not a lot, but…

It’s not a lot, but…

It’s not a lot, I think to myself as I smile while I get on the bus to go home.
It’s not a lot that I feel a little bouncier each time I see you…and maybe not just bouncier but I don’t really know how to react, or at least I think I won’t know how to react. But somehow it always works out. As I watch you quietly sitting there I think to myself, you’re really interesting. You sorta draw me, without me knowing about it. When I finally realise, it’s a little too late to know I’ve been already drawn in. I suppose I try and retrace my steps, ’cause I’m afraid to get hurt. I’ve been hurt before, deeply, and it sucks. It sucks really bad because I don’t know where to get out from. I don’t want to be vulnerable because I’m afraid you’ll see the side of me where I’m at my weakest, when I cannot reach out above and beyond my fears, where I leave my doubts to fester and where it is so painful sometimes there are not even tears. I am scared you’d come and see that and walk away because only then you’d know maybe I’d walk away one day because I couldn’t be okay with being vulnerable with you. I want to be, trust me, but every time I take a step, I stop and drop back into my little place where I am comfortable with myself. You make me wanna ask questions, to find out about these littlest details that fascinate me. Keep doing so, maybe my silly petrified soul will listen.


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