Gambling

It's a curious thing. I've just showered, its nice and cool, but I'm sweating. And not from any strenuous physical activity, but sweating just from reading one short paragraph.

There's a familiar fear gripping me, right this very moment. I recognize it from months ago, and although I have not made its acquaintance for some time now, it will be much longer before I forget what this fear tastes like. It's the fear of suddenly screwing up, the fear of things sliding so quickly out of control, the fear that this present moment is no dream but here to stay.

Whoever would have thought loving someone would be so difficult?

I told myself once no more making the same mistakes, no more sitting alone in the dark regretting saying that one stupid thing, doing (or not doing) that one stupid thing. Yet here I am, back at this same old crossroads, wishing I didn't have to be here. Again.

Love, in the end, is akin to gambling. If you play small, you only win small, so why even bother trying? Yet if you play big, yes, you stand to win it all, but the unfortunate alternate path is just as easy to tread down. Skill plays a significant portion, yet still pays humble homage to pure luck. At the end of the day, only the bold-hearted and the foolish remain to play, while the timid, fragile players have all left.

You know, I don't know what I'm writing anymore. Mind's screwed.

Good night. Normal transmission will resume after reboot.