Hell Bent and Scared

Quite a while ago I put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on me. I hate to admit, but I was hurt, and I didn't like it. I could feel my heart inside of me physically hurting. I never knew it could do that until I felt it give a jolting throb. I gave it some time to regain its composure, and then I put my sign over my heart and went along with life. Brian says I put up barriers, and Chad says I'm "frontin'" (said in a gangsta accent and not in a Idaho country accent, as I learned). Mostly, I'm just scared. Growing up, I wasn't scared of much. Ya, ya, ya, I'd climb a fence if it came between heading the hell bent cow and becoming a road bump beneath her 1500 pounds of cow flesh, but that's besides the point. My point is, I used to be brave, I used to trust (kind of) and I used to let myself take a chance--emphasis on all those "used to's." I took my "Do Not Disturb" sign down, but I'm scared every single day, and I don't trust at all anymore and I'm holding myself back as hard and as long as I can. Right now, I think I'd rather take on that hell bent cow...