Note to Analytical Friend

I cringe inwardly, overcome with reluctance to open up. I fear the feeling of being placed under a microscope, not quite ready for the full analysis of my moods, my grammar, my elocution, my subject matter, my characters, my interests and my dislikes that is sure to come. I wait for the questions in utter non-anticipation. (What's the opposite of anticipation?) Whatever it is, I am feeling it. I am afraid for the feeling of knowing that I will have less anonymity today, as my words are read by someone who I know would be very interested. It's good to share. It's bad to feel that because I share, I look to be captured between two sheets of glass, treated with dye, placed on 3X and gazed upon with your light illuminating me and the full magnification lowered down onto the glass that holds me in. Hello, friend who reads my blog today. Can't you see that I'll never be the same now that I've been placed under the microscope, in my verbal illustration? Can you see that the meaning might be lost if you study me too much, and force me to explain any further than I already have? Don't be too hard on me. Just look and enjoy. Don't spend too much time here and think too much about what I wrote. And please don't try to second-guess, like I know you will. You've heard most of this stuff already, and you've had plenty of time to question me. I'm glad I have you, my analytical friend, and I appreciate your interest, but you just can't look too close, or you will see all my faults and inconsistencies, and you might just destroy my self-proclaimed artistic integrity and I will catch a debilitating case of writer's block if I am forced to explain any more. That's all I have.