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the last time i took a risk, i mean a real risk complete with a post-marathon heart rate and sweaty palms, was two and half months ago. and even that was not the risk i truly wanted to take at that smokey show next to that boy who keeps entering my dreams silently.

it was easier to grab at the flesh at the boy i knew. though he hurt me, treated me like a rat. it was just easier. i knew it was welcome. i knew what he thought. he would pin me below him, and it would be fine for a few moments.

and then awful again.

'no, we can't do this anymore' or 'i never loved you i just didn't want to make you feel worse' or 'i don't want to talk to you anymore. it's just too frustrating.' but then months later, 'i've realized how special you are.' or 'come to my house and drink tea, we'll talk.' or 'no, you would make me happy though i would never satisfy you.'

and since i've been lonely for months afraid of everything; i go. for eternity, keep going back.

risks aren't so bad. no, i keep telling myself, risks have never hurt you in the way that security has.