Bare

You’re standing, stark naked, in front of the most unforgiving crowd. You’ve practiced this in front of the mirror for two weeks just to be sure that you’ve gotten the phrasing right. The rising and falling inflection in your voice has to be perfect.

When you go to move your lips to form the words, to push the sounds from your voice box, you sort of freeze because you aren’t sure you can go through with it. You’re sweating bullets and your heart is racing. You can see them in front of you, staring; their brains picking at your every move.

And then it just slips out and it’s nothing like you had rehearsed. The words fall off of your tongue and you want, more than anything, to reach out and grab them; shove them back down your throat and try it all over again in the hopes of getting it right.

“I love you.” Is all you said and it didn’t sound the same way it had when you’d told your mirror that morning. There was so much more than that. It was supposed to be more than just those three stupid words. You put yourself out there and it came out all wrong.

Then again, it really doesn’t matter because you’re not in front of that unforgiving crowd. It’s just that one unforgiving person who’s mumbling an “I’m sorry” under their breath and walking away.