confession: before i sent the email, i deleted the curse words from the first draft.
confession: it had been a few weeks since i’d seen him and the first thing i told him was the truth that i hadn’t admitted to myself until the words jumped from my mouth to his ear.
confession: grief resides in my stomach, feels like anger, and feeds on carbs. this grief craves soft pretzels.
confession: he said that i’m more guarded and he’s more vulnerable regarding falling in love. he hasn’t been hurt in the same ways i’ve been hurt. plus, he takes more risks because his heart is resilient to rejection.
confession: i bought the dress because it was longer and more modest than what i usually wear. i didn’t know it would fly waist-high showing the world my panties with every spin.
confession: last week she thanked me for the hug i couldn’t remember giving her until i reached to hug her again. when i remembered i squeezed her longer and tighter.
confession: i showed up at her house with my hurt and anger. she warned me that i was walking into her anxiety and depression. we sat with our feelings, drank peppermint tea, and talked about the what’s and why’s and how to do it differently’s from here.
confession: my favorite dancing moments occur when my feet aren’t touching the floor. thank you to those who lift me, flip me, off-the-ground dip me, and toss me into the air.
confession: yesterday was the first day i faltered in my new commitment. today i’m more determined.
confession: when i need her most, she’s out of the country. i need her right now. she’ll be home next week. i hope i’ve been here when she’s needed me most.
confession: her leopard print shoes at the end of her perfect legs in short shorts inspired me to buy sexy flowy tops and a new dress the next day.
confession: if i do the photo shoot, will i be brave enough to ask for what i want? if you have an opportunity to do something that frightens you and offers the potential to heal an old wound, would you be brave enough to show up?