You gave me your number. I wanted to call. If I were in tune with my passionate rhythm, in tune with my own love, my own fire and fury, I would’ve called. I would’ve called before the notepad and pen hit the floor.

Instead I made up some bullshit excuse like, well, I don’t want to ruin it, or other things…

It’s stupid. My level-headedness is not really level-headedness. It’s conservatism. And I have to wake up and see that, and I have to–do I?–start taking risks again.

Or something.

I don’t know.

But come on, a phone call? Is that a risk at alll?

I need someone in my life and you seem so perfect. Why can’t I make this work?

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