messy room, I crave the kind of connection where everything can be laid bare, where the messy edges of who I am aren't just tolerated, but truly seen and accepted. Yet, the closer I get to that precipice, the more a quiet, instinctual fear bubbles up, a primal urge to retreat, to keep the most vulnerable parts safely hidden. It’s a constant, gentle push and pull within myself, this dance between wanting to be profoundly known and the quiet terror of it happening.