I tried it.

I tried to write again.
And now I hear your voice saying it over and over. You never even said it out loud, you acknowledged it out loud, it 'out loud existed' but you never said it.
I can hear now and it hurts as much as it ever has, which is much more then it ever should have.
I know why, its because you said everything I ever feared and fought against about myself. You are making me have to face this. My fears I never allowed to be realized were suddenly unavoidably real and I couldn't hide. I will get over this, having to second guess every word I write, or think to write or want to write. Or really just words. I am kind of afraid for my words even these words right now, and these words were always the easiest to me; they are just what I need to say, still I find my brain saying "these are not good enough" and then I begin to edit myself. I never want to edit myself. My words have just as much of a right to everything as everyone else's.

Still:
I am afraid of the lack of justice I have to give them.
I am afraid that they are fake.
I am afraid that somehow they will never be what I so need them to be.

I worry about how they are perceived and what, in turn they say about me. And that is okay. I am okay. And my words are okay.
Your moment of harsh words, unintentionally meaningful and unknowingly cruel, have stayed with me. And I will get over that.
If nothing else I have no more choice but to be honest with myself. And I have no choice but to only write what I am most happy with.