If I could do it all again, I would stay up later. I would ask more questions, unashamed of how personal they were and not afraid that I wouldn't like the answers. If I could start over with you, I wouldn't doubt my instincts. I wouldn't fear what people thought if I catered to your every whim and laughed at every stupid joke. If I could try again, I would embrace every moment of every fight and ask for everything I needed from you. I wouldn’t worry if I was too needy, too attached, too much of anything. I would be myself more. I would scream louder. I wouldn’t of hesitated to tell you I love you, in every way, everyday. If I could do it again, I would not love you in halting steps always looking for some sort of validation that I was stepping on solid ground. I would jump into you and if you didn’t catch me, than I would still be picking up the same broken pieces I am now.
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #214
