This scale is slowly shifting.

Sometimes I feel like I can tell you everything I think and feel about everyone but you. And I think you tell me even less than that. And that sucks. It is like we are both avoiding a giant box in the room that is either full of a tamper-sensitive bomb or lots and lots of money. And we are too afraid to find out. Some things just aren't worth dying for. But I'm about to leave the damn room.