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The only reason I am writing this post right now is because before I started this site, I had it in my head that perhaps I would write some form of a daily truth every day for a year. It’s the third day since I first posted and I didn’t want to not post and potentially ruin an idea I’m not sure I intend to see through. I would rather be watching Episode 10 of Season 3 of Dawson’s Creek. That is what is next in my Netflix Instant Queue.

It’s not that I don’t have any thoughts worth writing about today. It’s that my overactive mind has had way too many. They are jumbled, confused, and not all fully formed. And I think that despite the fact that there is no one yet reading this, I’m still afraid of how someone might judge what I say. I want to choose the “right” thought to write about and I want to write about it in a way that is smart, insightful and funny. I want to use this post to make you like me.

I had a wonderful visit with one of my favorite people on the planet today. I have been wanting to talk to him for the past two weeks, but we live in different cities separated by several hours of driving so face-to-face talks aren’t that common (and we don’t seem to chat on the phone). I was looking forward to it, as I will always look forward to it. And it was great. Yet, as I go to bed tonight, I’m aware that there is some small whisper of something inside me that feels like fear.

I spoke to him today about how tired I am of pretending or of trying to be whatever it is I imagine I am supposed to be. I said something along the lines of, “If I ever allow myself to just be who I am and it turns out that’s not someone other people can love–because that’s my fear–then at this point, I’d rather accept being alone. If you think about it, if I’m pretending in all of my relationships then I’m already alone anyway.” I mention this because the discomfort that is moving quietly beneath my skin has to do with wondering now what this friend now thinks of me as a result of today. I want him to continue to want to be my friend. I want him to continue to like me, to approve of me, to be inspired by me. And as much as I enjoyed today, I think I was also anxious off and on throughout it, worried that what I had just said or what I was in the middle of saying or what I was about to say would change the way he sees me. Would lessen it. It’s not just that I don’t want to disappoint him; I want to impress him. I want him to drive home tomorrow wanting to see me again someday. I feel like I have to prove my worth to him in every conversation we have so that he continues to want to know me.