this describes more accurately what I feel than anything I could ever say.

I tried to write last night, but things just wouldn't come out right.
Yesterday was hard for me. It's hard not to be yourself around people who love you and the only thing stopping you is fear.
I like to be in control of things. I like to pretend I have a bit of control about my life. I would like to believe that I work hard toward my goals, I will achieve them. I know this is not true, because I know plenty of people currently unemployed, struggling in marriages/relationships, and fighting disease who couldn't work any harder, but no rewards come to them. I know this because if that were the case, I would have remained in my relationship with my ex-fiance and never begun this new journey that I am on. But I like to pretend I have control.

This illusion causes my fear. As long as I hold my secret tucked tightly to my chest, I have control over it. Once I release it, I am no longer in control. Maybe I don't let go at the right time in the right way, and it falls short or soars high into the sky causing an impact on it's return that would cause anyone pain. Maybe the wind will blow and I along with my secret will get lost in the high grass. Maybe they won't catch it, and I'll stand there in agony, praying that they bend down to pick me up and hold me. Maybe they are as ready as they can be, and even though they've never done it before, have prepared themselves to the best of their ability.

but if they don't pick me up. If they stand there, in shock, looking at my heart on the floor in front of them. Seeing the red spot on their arm where it hit before it landed. Staring, staring, staring, and then, movement. But not of their hands and their back reaching towards me. A slight nudge from their toe, a turn, and wiping their shoes on the grass as they go, a walk away while I lie on the ground, bleeding and crying and waiting for someone to pick me up.

I know that doesn't make sense. I know it won't happen. But you all know, how you can know something but be so overwhelmingly plagued with doubt you cannot believe it. And then I panic, and cannot breathe, and seek respite in my home. Locked away, tucking my secret close to my chest, where it is safe.