If you walked into my home right this very minute, I would apologize all over myself as I quickly ushered you through the messy kitchen into the dusty dining room, past the un-vacuumed rug and firmly shut the door behind us once we made it (mercifully) onto the front porch, and would position my chair just so to hide our wilting plants from view.
If you peeked inside my head today, I would smother you with prefaces that scream insecurity, uncertainty, fear. A timid blip of excitement might pop through and if you just kept swimming, swimming, swimming, past the sea of swirly twirly gum drops*, you'd see a smattering of rusty neurons firing that had fallen quiet for a time and feel a warm glow as wheels kept spinning.
If you lifted the veil to my heart and waited patiently for the should've, could've, guilt waves to subside, you would hear the steady beating of Hope pulse throughout and see my fingers holding on ever so tightly to the belief that greater things are yet to come.
*Two points if you caught both of those. Couldn't help myself.