I'm always a little less desperate than I'd like to be. By desperate, I mean vulnerable. By vulnerable, I mean honest.

When I write to people, even if my heart is bursting towards their happiness and good fortune, my words have an economy all their own and mine unwillingly. I think back, reassessing the message I could've sent if warmth was a luxury I would afford myself--the 'please' that could've driven home my sadness and desire, the 'friend' that would've made everything a little more clear. Now, how clearly these small omissions give themselves away as answers.

I think of myself as an honest individual. Failing to live up to that ideal, or maybe reducing it to its lowest common denominator, I tell myself, Remember to be desperate. When you're desperate, there's nothing to lose.