Writing has consequences. Words have power. Isn't this something I tell my students. And yet, I often throw words, sentences and thoughts around carelessly. As if no one really reads them, as if no one will stumble upon them and suffer the damage of my thoughtless words. But then, people do find my words, words I no longer completely stand by and yet... there they stand, a testament to my own cruel nature.

I am not nice or kind or gentle. I am afraid of losing the people I love and those I desperately want to love. I am afraid of being vulnerable, of letting you in. And so I say things I'm not sure I mean. And I twist words, sharpening them on my tongue until they pierce your very being and make you wonder why you got so close to me in the first place.

I do this over and over again, defending myself against you, whether you've attacked or not. I don't know how to let you in, in your sweet and innocent skin. You, with your dewy eyes and slow sweet smile. I do not trust myself alone with you.

I am full of thorns. Can I help it if you prick yourself?

The answer is I can.

The answer is I should.

The answer is my apology.