Nothing But Everything

I wish I could just tell you.
I wish.
But I can't.
Nothing is stopping me,
but I can't, all the same.
Because actually,
something is stopping me.
Nothing really.
Just... everything.
All of me.
Every fear,
every inhibition,
every insecurity,
practically every fiber of my being
is screaming
"YOU CAN'T."
And I believe,
because this has always proven
safe.
That and you scare me.
Not you per se,
but the idea
of you
(or anyone, really)
knowing too much.
But mostly
you
knowing... anything.
It terrifies me.

And why?
Who are you?
What would it hurt if you knew?
Nothing would change.
Not really.

But everything's
already different with you.
I've changed,
thus my whole world has.
There is a newly realized
possibility
which I hadn't even
considered before:
Letting you in
might be okay.
But how long have I
known you?
I shouldn't feel
this way.
But I'm adjusting.
I'm growing, changing,
learning how to be
here.
You showed me,
simply through being near me,
that I really didn't know
myself very well.
And so you mean nothing...
Yet you'll always be
so much more
than nothing
to me.

I wish, I long, I ache
to tell you.
Everything.
But nothing's what comes out.

Unreasonably,
I want so much  more than nothing
with you.
It makes no sense.
I'm silly.
Maybe, after all this,
I'll tell you.
I'll explain.

And when you know,
hopefully you'll understand.
And maybe you'll
forgive me.

You were so awesome,
so sweet,
so nice.
And I treated you
like less than
nothing.
But only because
it terrified me
to make you my everything.