FIVE!

Five fucking words! I had five words to say. At any moment, I'm positive I could have said them to her. However, at every moment, my mouth seemed to be wired shut.

FiFi = Chicken

I speak the english language, right? I can form separate words into a sentence. I know subject and verb and noun and pronoun and adjective and adverb and participle and gerund and preposition. And period, comma, question mark, exclamation point.

Ah, an exclaimation point would go nicely at the end of the sentence I have for her. She scares me. I am afraid of her for some reason. Most likely, I don't want to get hurt. More than likely, I will not get hurt. Absolutely, I am holding myself back by not saying what I want to say. She is different, painfully different. Her style and form aggravates and excites me. And yes, I am going slow! I swear to God. Will I rush it? Who knows? Who cares, right? What is meant to be will be...and I know what is meant to be since I am enamoured with having my future predicted and laid out before me. So, why the fear? Fuck the fear. It's time to test the theory.

Okay, now that I've worked that out. Peace, finally! Geesh! Is it 5:00 yet?