In this past year I've found myself in moral dilemmas that I never thought I'd make it past. The past few months I've wondered if these experiences would forever exist as dead noise, in the back of my mind, like the sound of cars speeding past my window.

Then I met you. It's even hard to believe that after everything-- I still care-- that I still believe that there is reason to think some people mean well, and their intentions are benevolent even if they unintentionally hurt myself, or others.

Yet I still hold fear close to my heart, because I find it detrimentally unsettling how quickly my feelings have the ability to change.

I've pushed you away more times than I can recall because you scared me with your loving intentions. I am so used to being alone with my glass half full, overfilling with hopes and new messes to clean up.

I am used to people running the other direction when they realize how many layers I have, after they've exhausted the "fun" side of me.

So, I have learned and tried to deny any potential of becoming too close, or attached, but the more we speak, the more I realize that maybe your company is worth the hurt I might feel if you choose to leave.

You don't understand why I'd want to spend time with you, but it's because of your idiosyncrasies that you think I should hate. Your friendship makes me feel okay about the my vulnerability. I've opened up to you, you've opened up to me.

We've shared with each other the darkness of experiences that we're not proud of, but isn't it sort of incredible that we have crafted this friendship out of them?

Even if no one else ever hears it, I find it amazing how we have created music out of the noise I once wished would fade away.