excerpts from a book i'll never write - twelve.

these are the fears i feed myself:

that your "sure" or "you can come if you want" are his "i don't know yet" [when talking about hanging out].

that i am too much.  too much hope, too much love, too much anxiety.  too enough.

that i am not enough.  too quiet.  too inside my head.  too old.  not round enough.  a girl who has never been perky.

that i'll scare you off if i let you in, or i'll push you away if i don't.  ever a failure.  ever a disappointment.

that i'll say too much on a drunken night.  or hold back too much on a sober one.

that there will always be a monster lurking under the bed, with long legs and long hair, the scent of fresh cut grass on her skin.