with your heart in your hands

I've been reading the blog I kept in my last year of college and the first couple years after graduation. Man, I was a mess, but I was definitely growing into a decent human being.

Here's an excerpt from 2008:

I've been forgetting, recently, to be daring.

The only philosophy I actually manage to live by (and I know I have a lot of them) is that things are worth it. Some things are worth any pain or inconvenience. Some things are worth heartache.

I've forgotten to be fearless lately. I've been going around being nervous, being guarded and prudent, being careful. I haven't cut lines and just trusted people. I've held back. I haven't gotten my heart broken.

I've always believed that you do things with your heart in your hands. Because, inevitably, shit happens and you get hurt, no matter how well you've guarded yourself - so why live with arms crossed and fists closed? I'd rather give it all, live generously, feel. Because, in the end, it's worth it.

It's good to remember that.

I can't decide if this is heartfelt and well-written, or if it's just glib and trite. At any rate, I remember having a lot of feelings when I was writing it. At the time it felt raw and fierce and honest. Maybe it only feels trite because the words are so familiar now.

I think I've done all right, since then, of being open and living a little messy, a little unguarded. It might not be as safe and comfortable, but it's living. Of course, I could always live more fearless. It's a work in progress.