I have trust issues, I have abandonment issues, too, and I ramble when I’m nervous. I spurt out random facts about only God knows what, I’d rather sit home and read a book then be out doing something social; probably because I’m socially inadequate. I’m bound to screw this up, and I’m bound to push you away, more times than I‘d like to admit. There is more than a good chance that this will blow up in our faces, leaving one, or both, of us hurt. I’m scared. Scared of this, scared of what I’m feeling but, I like you. I like you so much that it hurts. I want to try this—whatever this is, I want it.