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There are 93 keys on a standard computer keyboard. 26 of them are letters. 20 of them numbers. There are symbols, hotkeys, arrows, and buttons to save and buttons to delete mistakes. There are over 65,000 words in the English language, not including slang.

I stare at them all - at this black keyboard with white print - and I cant find one single combination of letters and words that could convey how much I love you.

There are 6 strings on a classic acoustic guitar. 21 frets. Unless my math is wrong, that's 126 different notes. Push or pull any one of the strings and tuning knobs in any direction and you begin multiplying that number exponentially by 126 again. The variations and options multiply again when you consider the different amounts of pressure you apply when holding down the string or strings when you play it.

Velveteen.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

Scars Are Souvenirs You Never Lose

I do my best to make things look easy.

I laugh a lot. I make jokes about everything, especially myself. I find solace in making people smile and breaking the ice by saying the most inappropriate comment at the worst moment possible. I don't yell or act stressed or angry. I let things fall off my shoulder and flick them aside. I walk slow, drive fast, and embrace silence and solitude as much as I adore being in the spotlight of a group of good friends. I don't cause drama, but I'll share my opinion if asked. I don't argue with people who know more on a subject than I do. I ask questions and listen patiently. I soak in time alone on my roof watching the sunset the same way I would immerse myself in the moment of laying in bed in the morning, with a woman in my arms, sound asleep. I appreciate the big picture in life just as much as I crave dissecting the details and variables everyone else tends looks over.

But what I have a hard time doing... is sharing all of this.

And it's taken almost three decades of living, but I think I'm starting to pinpoint the reason.