Thinking back in the past year or so, I realized that I've spent the most of my writing energy on the men in my life - whether it's curious wonder, contentment, or indignance. And then I look back, mostly on the first two categories, and just think, you never deserved to be written about like this.

I like to romanticize my feelings in order to put them into words - it makes the pieces that much more interesting to read, and more tangible, both to myself and to my readers. It's hard for non-writers to understand that concept, and I guess it's even hard for me to understand it, now that I am out of it.

It takes a certain degree of detachment on my part - detachment from my reservations, sensibilities, and paranoia of being hurt - to really write something that seems true and worthwhile about a man. At this point, I don't think I can afford that detachment anymore. Even though that person may never read it, I just feel much too vulnerable even having produced it, and to have people think that I have truly felt the things that I've written.

Recently I've really started to think that I am much more hesitant to love than I have ever been before.