Can I be transparent with you

"There's really nothing to writing, you just sit at a type writer and bleed"

I would like to 92% agree with this statement, the other 8% are in disagreement because I do not own a type writer and most probably never will. It's just me and my paper on a go with my somewhat naked pen.

This is me trying to face my writing anxiety, this is me trying to shoot my shot. I am not a writer let alone a good one for that matter. But its the only thing, well not only but one of the things I consider myself good at.

I have a lot of talk in my head than I actually speak, it was until recently I realised that bottling up means I had come to terms with the number of attendees I have gathered for my funeral past the years which isn't the case because I'm not done yet. Of course you do not care about what I have to say or write about and right now you're probably wondering why then am I doing this? Well I do not care either and I don't expect you to...stop reading! But I have a ray of hope there's someone out there who is more or less like me, with almost the same experiences and shots at life and darling you are not alone, we are going to get home and the whole shall come too.

If there's anything and anyone that triggered and unburied my love for expressing myself in words: it would be my very wide imagination and my very first best friendaaa ( I would like to call her that) Anne-Sharlene who recently started calling herself Yellow_hues I'm yet to ask why (inserts laughing emojis). She does it so naturally and effortlessly I would like to think its as if her next breath depends on it and funny how I relate to almost all of her writings, from her childhood memories because we've been friends since then, to the very first male species that broke our hearts (we call them dads, don't get me wrong we still love them to the moon and right around the sun), to being color purple lovers, to being the outspoken introverts (inserts smiley) I am a lowkey fan @Yellow_hues.

You see its an anxiety I did not just get carried off, I have the power to shift from talking about me to talking about me through my childhood friend, Its called hiding. 

Maybe its my greatest fear to be so vulnerable and expose that which I consider dear to my soul because my story has everything to do with what I am presently. But then again, maybe this is where it's at - my breakthrough.

I have a very toxic trait of wanting to see right through people always paradoxically, when I myself avoid making eye contact - I do not really look you straight in the eye and when I do its only for a moment because my eyes (sighs) my eyes are the windows to my soul and I am afraid you will see it all in there: From the door with a broken handle to the windows with Burglar bars ( you are the burglar), from the cold living room with a well lit fire place to the corridor that leads to my room, my safe haven...dare me not to take you there, my bed is messy. I dare you to love me like that.

Maybe writing its where its at, where I get to pull up the curtains and let the sunshine in, I won't even close it at night so i let the moon shine through too. This is it, this is where I get to be transparent as much as I would like to see it in you.

Can I at least be transparent with you, if not you then you or you....