So many things I could do. I could buy a villa in Umbria. I could leave it all behind. I could enjoy the whimsy of my life without an underlying fear. But I know better.

So many things I could say. I could let the wonderful things inside me billow around you like chiffon in the wind. I could tell you that you’re wrong about me. I could never accept the carelessness of others out of politeness again. But I know better.

So many things I could be. I could allow the color of my being to meet the lines where I end without shyness. I could do all the things my insides call out for me to claim as I hesitate at their threshold. I could be light in its infancy, air in its corporeal form. I could be so much more than a girl who wakes up with a racing heart. But I know better.