Powder Keg

I want to write you a letter, but I'm afraid I do that too much. I want to talk to you, but I'm afraid the words won't be quite as right. I want to see you, but you're long asleep. I want to spend time with you, but between my schedule and yours, that doesn't seem to happen.

Instead, I'll just say it here - I've been a bitch this week and I'm sorry. It's been a rough one at work, a rough one at home, and sometimes I carry the baggage over into the reat of my life. You don't deserve to have to carry that, or have it thrown at you. My apologies.

I'm spending a lot of time wondering lately, what is worse for me: where I am, or where I want to be? Where I am, I spend so much time thinking about how much better life will be. Where I want to be, though, makes me so happy it hurts. I enjoy it when I can, and get what doses of it are possible.

We have so much potential it scares me. I've been on this straight and relatively flat road for so long I don't know how to handle extremes. Fact is, you make me more than just "happy" and I want to do the same for you. That can add up to one explosive powder keg, and I'm looking for my lighter.