As you look at her laying next to you, your mind races through all the ways that telling her could go horribly wrong. You’re paralyzed by the fear that she’ll finally see that her idea of you, the one that she loves, isn’t the person you really are. That she’ll see you as the collection of insecurities and worthless thoughts that you’re made of, and you’ll never get to lay here next to her with the moon filling the room and making her sleepy eyes shine at you like this. You don’t want to hide things from her but you’re too afraid of losing her to make your mouth open and speak the horrible truth.
“Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep sweetheart.” You kiss her forehead and settle into a spooning position. She dozes off again with little fuss, and you feel awful for lying to her.