I've recently begun shaving areas that have never been shaved before. Now, before you get the idea that you could flush quail out of my bush, I've always been well-kempt, just not shaved. However, on the recommendation of a friend (who is particularly adept at shaving) I've started, and I like it. But that's another story. Anyhow, you know what I've noticed? That shaving takes time. When I've got time, I start thinking.
So today, I've got a razor in my holiest of holies and I think, okay, now's a good time for a little introspection. What's up with me? What's up with "the wall?" (Editor's note: Those of you who are behind "the wall," and those who have a "wall" of your own, know very well what "the wall" is.) What am I so afraid of?
My conclusion?
What I'm most afraid of is falling for someone who has no intention of catching me.
There. I've said it. It's out there. Jeebus, it's cold outside of the wall.
