Writing Backwards

Outside the city is still awake. Dogs bark in the distance, and vehicles of all shapes and sizes honk as they pass each other. I can hear from two doors down a bark so incessant that I can almost hear the phantom bark before it happens. It sounds almost like a pulse. 

The summer air is dry and cool, so different from the one I’m used to. I’m stripped down to shorts and a tee, yet simply going up the stairs makes me begin to perspire. 

A gentle breeze is my only escape from the unbearable heat. It brings in a faint smell of dying leaves and cooling asphalt. I miss the scent of pine. And the crisp, wet air that carries it. Inhaling begins to hurt my nose, and the elevation leaves my head pounding. Nearly in sync with the barks. 

Sometimes the passing cars are peaceful. Like a slow burn; it’s gradual and lazy. Other times they’re crashing cymbals right outside my window. 

I’ve found I need to be like those slow cars. I can’t continue with my sharp turns or jerky movements. Every motion leaves me dizzy and lightheaded. Instead, I’ll adapt the pace of nature.

I could say a lot about you. You are pretty much the only thing that has been on my mind the last few days. The thought of you wakes me up in the morning and tucks me in every night. I could say a lot. I could say that you have the brightest blue eyes of anyone I have ever met. They’re always brighter then I remembered. Sometimes I have to look away because looking into them makes me feel vulnerable, exposed with nothing to hide behind. I could say that the sound of your voice should annoy me when I hear it everyday for hours, instead I go out of my way to spend more time listening to you. I could say that your childlike excitement for rain and violet colored night skies should seem silly, but it makes me smile everytime. I could say that not knowing whether you feel the same drives me crazy. That one is true.

I thought I could handle being friends with you. Just friends. Sure it hadn’t worked so hot with the last guy, but I was older and more mature, or so I thought. I was positive I could control my emotions. At first I lied to myself all the time. He’s not that great, I’d hear myself say as if the words alone would make it true. I like just hanging with you, I would tell him, lying through my teeth.

Then one night you flipped the script. You changed everything and I didn’t know if I was happy or upset with you for it. Maybe a bit of both. I was elated because you gave me hope. I was miserable because you gave me hope. An opportunity to get my heart broken by you. Did I give you hope, too?

So the chase began. Me pursuing you. I waited for you to turn around and chase after me, but you never did. Initially I was determined to get you. Fire in my eyes. Eventually I grew exhausted. It wasn’t fun anymore. It was torture. All I wanted was a response, something to let me know I wasn’t chasing in vain.

Not knowing how you felt about me made me second guess how I felt about you. I was close to cutting my losses and giving up. I closed my eyes, took in a big breath, and began to run one last time. I threw you one last lifeline, and waited to see if you’d take the bait. I could be patient for a little longer. But would you take it?

I could say a lot about you. I could say you were the first boy I let hold my hand. I could say you were the highlight of my day. I could say that the weight of your head resting against mine felt like the most amazing sensation in the world. I could say that I tortured myself thinking about those memories. That would all be true.

I could say we were the greatest love story ever told; up there with the classics. I could say you shattered me past the point of no return. Which one was true?

I could say that you were a boy that I was unfortunate enough to catch feelings for. That you liked me just not enough. And I liked you just not enough to make it work. I could say that things fizzled out naturally and that was that. Nothing happened, nothing at all. Would that be true?

You stood me up. For the last time, I decided. Once again I had put my faith into you, and you let me down. Did you even care? Would you even remember tomorrow? Did you know how it felt glancing at my phone every twenty minutes hoping to hear a loud beep with your name flashing across the screen? Did you know how it felt sitting there on the couch alone amongst the paired off couples, wondering if you even saw my message. And if you had, did you simply choose to pretend you hadn’t. You provided no explanation, just six simple words as your apology.

Tomorrow I turn 20.

At the moment I feel both so old and incredibly young. There are things that I wanted to have accomplished by now. There are so many new things I want to try. It feels like I’m at a stand still. Or limbo.

When I was 15, I came up with the infamous Twelve Year Plan. I had the next twelve years planned out. I wanted to go to NYU, get into a medical program at UW, move to New York, and become a practicing neurosurgeon all by 27.

When I was 17, I realized that I wasn’t going to NYU. It wasn’t the end of the world, yet I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I had failed. For the next two years, failure stuck to me like an animated storm cloud that refuses to dissipate. Nothing I did felt good enough, because nothing I did was what I had planned on. After graduation I packed up my entire life and moved to Utah. I left my family, friends, my home. I say left because I didn’t say goodbye. I fled like a thief in the night, without a word or a trace. Not even a forwarding address.

Halfway through my nineteenth year I remembered the plan. Go to NYU? Nope. Get into a medical program? I changed my major to English. Move to New York and become a neurosurgeon? Not with these shaky hands. And at first I felt a pang in my chest. I was already a third of the way through the plan and had accomplished nothing!

But then I hear laughter from outside my door. It’s my roommates and friends, all of whom I would never have met at NYU. And there’s a sense of relief knowing that I was relinquishing my stubbornness and pursuing what I actually wanted to study, and not what I thought sounded more impressive. As much as I wanted the busyness of city life, attending school in the smallest town ever taught me that I didn’t need the city that never rests; I’m restless enough already. Being a neurosurgeon had been my goal since I first cut open my first brain in Biology class. And when I began to learn more about mental illnesses and genetic disorders, my love grew bigger. I wanted to help those who needed my set of skills and expertise. I had thought writing was selfish--it was just for me.

Then I began writing again, and I knew it wasn’t true.Writing helped me connect with others. I wrote for them: my niece, my classmates, younger me. It was a reflection of everything I felt. And as I began to share my writing, I realized that I couldn’t picture myself doing anything else. I mentally decluttered. I threw out my outdated 12 year plan, and instead replaced it with a blank space. That space was left for  my future, my happiness, my journey; it wasn’t a plan set in stone, but rather a placeholder for the time being.

I hadn’t planned on meeting my best friend when I moved in to my apartment on a sunny day in September. I hadn’t planned on late night McDonald’s runs and scary movies at one in the morning. I hadn’t anticipated that I would grow to love rap music. I hadn’t planned on revisiting therapy or opening up to my parents. I hadn’t planned on being a full-time student, working a part time job, and rocking an internship at 19.

So tomorrow when I turn 20, what will I do?

He’s perfect. Not really; his fashion style isn’t great, and he is always quiet around my friends, but he’s perfect because he balances me out. I’m sure you know the type. Somehow they check off nearly every box on your list. He loves cooking, he loves his family, he has a sense of humor. He has a smile that lights up his face, and when you’re around him you feel free to be your wild spirited self because you know he’s there to keep you from flying too far. And he not only meets the majority of the requirements, he adds to them.

I had never noticed how dedicated he is, in all areas of his life, until the third month of knowing him. He seemed to balance work, school, family, and fun perfectly. Instead of envy, I was impressed. When we went to the store together, he navigated through the isles as if on autopilot. While I was busy doddling, looking around, his eyes scanned the shelves, plucking each item on our list and adding them to our cart. He never got distracted.

From the outside perspective, it felt like he was right for me, like a complementary puzzle piece. Together they complete the image. But it wasn’t a match. I tried so hard to make it work. It seemed like it should’ve worked, but our pieces just didn’t seem to fit together.

In almost all of my relationships, I always looked inward. My friendships, my family, my love life.

When my best friend turned into my biggest bully, I justified it by saying she was under a lot of stress. I was just collateral. It wasn’t personal.

When my sister made my life a living hell, I convinced myself it was because I deserved it. I was messy, I was juvenile, I was impulsive and restless; I was eighteen.

When the first guy I went out with in college never texted me back, I told myself it was because he was way out of my league. And when an older boy told me I was a liar, and that he could never trust me, I cried. My roommates found me, curled up on my lofted twin bed, listening to Billie Eilish.

When my roommate started icing me out, I let her. I knew what she was going through. I knew it would get better soon, I just had to endure it a bit longer. So I let her use me like a human punching bag. Taking the hits meant she didn’t have to.

When the first boy I really liked told me I looked pretty with my hair up, I tried to shake it off. But every moment spent with him made me feel special. And I wondered if I was. So when he stopped coming around, stopped texting back, stopped caring, I wondered if he merely lost interest, or if I had become ugly in his eyes.

But what I came to realize over time, was that while I looked inward, they shifted their gaze outward. It was easier that way. They didn’t have to deal with their problems, or face their flaws. I suppose it’s always easier to blame others, than to admit that we are in the wrong.

But with him, the boy who’s smile lit up his face, there was no need. I didn’t look inward, wondering if I was the problem. There was no need for justifying, convincing, or rationalizing. My messiness wasn’t the issue. My laissez-faire attitude wasn’t to blame. We didn’t chalk it up to our differences. There was no need to look inward, or outward, because we realized there wasn’t a problem. We’re just different and compatible, easy and simple.

It was the first relationship I had that wasn’t made over complicated by the outside world. And I found no need to force anything because we were perfect just as we were.

we compliment each other

or so i thought

i’m bright, cheerful, sunny

lanterns on summer nights

dandelions and the exact 

shade of my favorite drink

i’d like to think i remind you 

of something happy, too

it took me a while before i could see

what you remind me of

at first you made me think

of my favorite nail polish

fire-engine red

you demand attention without asking

and we give it to you

you remind me of the walls 

of my childhood bedroom

light, soft, safe

and though you never display it

if i look close enough

i can see the soft outline of stars

scattered across your surface

when it gets dark your stars begin

to glow up 

almost like they were 

a secret 

meant only for me

but neither of those are accurate

because you are loud and calm

playful and shy

inviting and distant

you remind me of the ocean

some days you’re bright blue skies

with not a single cloud in sight

you’re warm and friendly

you invite me in and the hours seem

to pass by too quickly

i reluctantly gather my things and leave

already thinking about our next visit

it was a really good day

other days you’re a tempest

unpredictable, your thunder shakes the ground

your lightning flashes angrily across the sky

it’s a warning

‘keep out’, it says

i hesitate to approach

you don’t let me in

i try again and again and again and again and again

you won’t budge but i refuse to relinquish

i won’t leave you, i can’t abandon you

i consider waiting the storm out

i wait for hours, days, weeks

by the time you’ve settled down 

you’ve grown far too 

cold to venture into

yet i do anyway

i step in

all the heat leaves my body

my lungs stop moving

my heart stops beating

am i in cardiac arrest?

is this how death feels?

so cold and empty

i keep walking

i'm up to my knees, then my thighs

you won’t relent

but neither will I

i'm patient, i’ve gone through this before

eventually the burn from the cold fades 

into numbness 

it doesn’t hurt anymore

i convince myself that it even feels nice

i could live in your arctic atmosphere forever

if that was what it took

and when you are ready for some

warmth, i’ll be here

ready to share mine with you

with the smallest ripple, you create a wave

it grows as it approaches me

it threatens to swallow me

it’s grown too big for me 

and I feel my feet be swept

from underneath me

you pick me up, toss me 

around for good measure

then spit me out

i crash on the shore

surrounded by course sand

old driftwood

and hermit crabs

when i finally catch my breath

i sit up to see you’ve retreated

without a goodbye

you don’t look back

i tell myself not to return

i vow to forget you 

i move on

‘I'm stronger than I was before’

I protest to the part of my brain

that is still capable of making

good decisions

‘I'm just curious, aren’t you?’

‘I won’t fall back in’

though I know these are all lies

I start to make my way down the sandy shore

that had once caught me

when I was shoved away

as I get closer I notice we aren’t alone

rising up to the surface is a bundle of laughter

she’s cotton candy clouds and summer sunsets

she’s beautiful and flirtatious

and you let her in

and even though i know

there’s no chance between us

watching her dive deeper 

i can’t help but think 

of my kitchen counters

boring, ordinary, simple

i'm no longer dandelions and sunshine

I'm a tall coniferous surrounded by taller trees

i'm an old book sitting on a shelf

well-loved once

but now i'm purely there for display

i catch dust and cobwebs

i'm no longer lanterns that are the same

shade as my favorite drink

i'm dull, replaceable, used

by the age of eight i fell in love

at age ten i was convinced i knew

what love looked like

it came in the form of a silhouette

tall, dark and handsome with a

sprinkle of charming, a splash of wit,

and a generous helping of kind

thirteen would change all that

i’d fall in love with boy after boy after boy

he was heroic but damaged

he was stoic but romantic

he needed to stay away from me

but he also needed me to save him

the boys were more beautiful than

words can describe

they were fearless, compassionate,

they were natural born leaders

i fell hard at fourteen

with four boys at once

i had long since given up on drinking

the bs kool aid that tried to convince me

that love was controlling, obsessive,

unhealthy, dependency, submission

i had fallen for boys that made me

question why i fell for anything less

the shy but kind boy-prince

he was radiant but he didn’t like to shine

he was there and asked for nothing more

the knight captured my heart and refused to let go

he was hardworking in a way only he understood

he was elegant and careful

the crown prince

heir to the throne, the kingdom, the universe

he hadn’t asked for it

but it was his now

he wanted nothing more than to

meet me in the forest and run away

from his responsibilities

he could be hot headed

but he was fiercely loyal

he denied it, but he had so much

potential, power waiting to be used

then there was the leader of them all

the king

he stood tall, regal

he was a natural leader without being controlling

he was clear-headed but still compassionate

in his hands he help power and

he knew how to use it

he liked that i had power of my own

i’d help him carry the burden

there were other boys over the many years

but none could compare to him

at seventeen i had accepted that no

other boy could come close to

meeting the impossible expectations

set by previous suitors

college was no different

i tried different boys like i

try on clothes in dressing rooms

some didn’t fit right

but they were cheap and i was in a rush

i tried to convince myself to get it

‘what if i don’t find anything better?’

i’d say to myself as i attempted to rationalize

my choice

‘maybe i’ll take it in to get altered or throw

a scarf over it’

i lied to myself saying, ‘i’ll learn to

like the pattern’‘i’ll grow into it,’

‘one day it’ll be just right’

you never grow into it

others were practical

a good, reliable match

they fit just right, the price was

reasonable, the quality fair

but something stops you

the design

it wasn’t distasteful by any

means, in fact it was quite pleasant

and given all the other factors i should

select this one

……

but i don’t love it

i could purchase it anyway

the more i wore it the more it would

grow on me

i make my decision and head to the

registers

something catches my eye

something in me bubbles up to the

surface and out of my mouth in the form

of a gasp

i approach it slowly like it were

a docile doe

as if any sudden movement will scare it away

cautiously i reach my hand out and

touch the material

it feels impossibly soft like

touching a cloud

the color was incredible and it matched

my eyes perfectly

tentatively i take it off the rack

without glancing at the price

it fit like it had been made

for me and me alone

it made me feel confident, bold, alluring

this was it, i had found the perfect fit

but the price!

and the material would have to be

dry cleaned and hung lest it wrinkle

and i’d rarely have an occasion to

wear it to

yet i couldn’t help myself from

imagining what it would feel like

to wear it out for a night

i couldn’t stop the smile on my face

i couldn’t lie to myself this time around

it brought me joy

reluctantly i put it back on the rack

accepting that though i liked it

it was more trouble than its worth

heaven forbid i ever grew out of it

or regretted buying it so i shove it to the back

of the closet, sitting there collecting dust

i walk away from it but i can’t force

myself to go further than a few yards away

i’m not ready to say goodbye yet

i know it isn’t practical, but maybe it would

be worth it

when would i ever find anything that fit me perfectly

that brought me this much joy

i start to make my way back to the rack

i have only one thing on my mind all

other thoughts disperse

i’m only a few feet away now

i smile, looking back at the internal monologue

i went through just to end up getting it in the end

i shake my head, laughing to myself at the

ridiculous complexity of it all

when i look up

its gone

impossible

where did it go?

who had i?

i leave empty handed

i cant even entertain the idea of

walking out with anything else

at least not today

one day, as i’m standing, waiting in line for

the register something catches my eye

i’m thrown back into the memory

i see it hanging there, returned or replaced,

i didn’t know

but from where i stood i

realized that the material wasn’t as nice

as i had remembered it being

the color more muted

and gazing at it i realized it

wasn’t my taste anymore

i had moved on from it long ago

as i walk out of the store i take

one final glance back

there it stood, no longer the centerpiece

no longer desirable

and what had once brought me

trees

you told me i smell like trees

to me you remind me of summer

you’re the sweet spot between

scorching july and

romantic august

you’re popsicle stands and

hot asphalt

you’re the beach and fireworks

you’re quiet

there’s no rush or hurry

just moments to soak in

you’re never ending

days with you seem to last a lifetime

but are gone much too soon

you’re long august nights

you stretch across the sky

taking your sweet time

you have nowhere to be

eventually you push the sun down

and sprinkle down the stars

they wink flirtatiously

you’re light

sometimes you remind me of dusk

in september

right before labor day when

everything tries to make summer last

‘just one more day’

when you’re here it’s the most

beautiful sunset

but you make me wait

and you leave without a goodbye

you’re not very considerate

being in the same room as you

feels like i’ve spent

all this time holding my breath

when you walk in i can feel the

oxygen come back to my lungs

you felt like a late night drive

exciting, but i hadn’t a

clue what was going on in your head

like dessert, i know that you’re

not a necessity; a non-essential

but you bring color

you bring warmth

you bring security

you bring light

you’re like the sun

you’re there shining for all to see

but you can’t be controlled

you can’t be anything other than what

you are

i foolishly flew closer and closer

testing the limits

trying to get closer to you

my skin burns but i keep going

the wax on my wings melt

i plummet

down

down

down

down

into the deep, dark ocean

i’ve forgotten how to swim and i go

deeper

deeper

deeper

dee-

a pair of strong arms pull me up

i feel their hands roll me over and

brush my hair out of my face

i wonder what they’re thinking

the hands disappear and i’m left alone

before i can feel sorry for myself

and my horrible luck

i feel lips touch mine

my lungs inflate again

my heart beats

more accurately my heart races

i open my eyes and it isn’t

where to begin?

you’ve been my worst enemy

you’ve been my constant roommate

there isn’t anywhere i go

that you don’t follow

i wish you’d just leave me

alone

being left alone used to be my biggest fear

abandoned, silent, still

now i’m more terrified of my thoughts

when life gets too quiet

my brain hums like an engine starting

it cranks out ideas, thoughts, dreams, fears

they fill my brain until all i can do is

hope i remembered to lock the front door

i go to double-check, it’ll take but a moment

i go to triple-check, it’s better to be safe than sorry

i go one more time for good measure, this

time i know there’s no reason for me

to be out of bed at this ungodly hour

it’s irrational

i try my best to fight the urge

it’s relentless, it’s stronger than i am

it doesn’t stop it’s assault on my

mind until i give in

it feels like a bomb in my chest

the timer counts down each

second threatening to detonate

would the aftermath be messy?

no matter, i save us

‘us’, i’ve always liked that word

‘us’ has a ring of belonging to it

like a shared secret whispered to each

other or two hands intertwined together

‘us’ belongs with someone

with, not to

‘mine’ belonged to someone

it was ownership

a leash

confinement

my mind reels at the thought

haven’t you grown tired of me?

i thought you’d eventually move on

why are you still here?

like a ghost you’ve haunted me

for years

i’ve tried everything to get rid of you

you’re not budging

do you belong with me?

i’d say no

do you belong to me?

am i the owner?

the holder of the leash

the one with the key to your cell

your voice is a smooth tenor

it’s not gravely or rough

it projects even when you whisper

but you take extra care to keep it soft 

when you’re around me

my voice is an alto

it’s not particularly distinct in any way

other than its inability to raise higher

than a mediocre holler

it rarely got that loud

sometimes my voice is so soft and low

it comes out as a whisper

words that can only be heard by 

those who strain to hear them

sometimes you can’t hear

i don’t know if you’re hard of hearing

or just tune me out

sometimes i would give anything

for you to listen

some people hate the rain

i can’t understand them

there’s something so magical

about the first raindrop

you know it’s going to fall a millisecond

before it does

petrichor it’s called

it has its own word

looking up, you see the raindrop

it’s as if it’s in slow motion

electricity crackles in the air and 

the wind shifts, picking up the scent 

of fallen leaves and hot asphalt with it

//

the way the water hits my skin

awakens me

i feel myself come alive as the water runs

down my neck, shoulders, back

when i close my eyes i picture

the hot water washing away the

thoughts, the stress, the fear, the worry

it flows down my body and joins the

suds and stray hairs in the drain

down, down, down, and away, away, away

it goes

out of sight, out of mind

my eyes open and the light appear brighter

the laughter coming from the other

side of the door grows louder

the air feels icy

for a few peaceful minutes i’m alone

but not lonely

neither happy nor afraid,

excited nor melancholy

all i feel for the few minutes is

how i love beginnings

the excitement, the rush the potential

a promise of endless possibilities

start, commence, embark, launch

fresh, new, novel, raw

there’s electricity in the air

time stands still and 

then moves in fast forward

a blank page just waiting to see

what amazing ideas will be  

recorded on its body

clean, blank, pure

untainted by disappointment or

For someone who spoke of communication you misheard a lot. Sometimes it felt like we were speaking two different languages. I was speaking latin, you were speaking in tongues. So we yelled at each other. Mine came out like a geyser, word vomit you called it. Yours came out like the stream of a water fountain. Steady, consistent, on your terms. 

You said you understood me. In fact, you practically mansplained me to me. You picked my brain for two and a half weeks and thought you had me pegged out. You told me who I was. And I bent and broke to become that. You were angry that I lied, you claimed you would have preferred the ugly truth. But that’s what we all say after the fact. I trusted you with the ugly, it was the beautiful you never saw.

I told you all my secrets. But I have something that I kept to myself. Something better than confessions of past mistakes. Moments. Moments of pure, unadulterated happiness. Looking back I chose to ignore the bad in you, but you never got to see the good in me. I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want to share with you the most intimate, authentic part of me. I didn’t want you to touch it.

Dancing around the apartment as my roommates and I got ready for a night out. Giggling at three am as we plan our greatest prank. Riding in the car together as we blast our favorite music and sing along...badly. These I keep to myself- these are mine.

Right now you’re apologizing. But it’s more for you than me. Even still you’re trying to define me. You’re telling me I was the insecure one. I was the one that needed to make the effort. Your apology isn’t an apology, it’s just one last effort to hit me where it hurts. But I don’t care anymore.

You write me paragraph after paragraph trying to show me ‘your side’ of things. You justify your choices based on my actions. You manipulate me. But I don't feel hurt, or angry, or guilty. You do. You claim that you saw me. That when I look in the mirror I might not see myself, but you saw me. You couldn’t be more mistaken. I see myself exactly how I am. 

It’s so easy to reminisce about the good times. “It was good in the beginning,” I’d argue. “It’s always good in the beginning,” they’d counter.

The truth is that I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to try again. We hurt each other too much. But right now you want to apologize, and half of me wants to forgive you. Except I know that if I give you an inch, you’ll take ten miles. And right now I can’t handle you taking any more of me than you already have.

It’s hard to keep a balance between the good and the bad. You offer me your jacket, you judge too harshly. You tell me I’m beautiful, you call me a liar. You’re a good person, you’re just not good for me. 

I want to blame it on the meds. But I know that’s wrong. I want to blame it on my anxiety, “I’m depressed!” I argue. Anything to avoid the truth. I am like this.

“You’re so nice”

“You’re a sweetheart, you know that, right?”

“You’re the best”

I feel like a ballerina. Spinning around in circles going nowhere. Seeing the same four walls over and over and over and over and over again. And the only way to make it stop is to fall, to break, to shatter into a million pieces and hope I can put myself back together. I’m self-destructive. But this time there’s casualties. There’s collateral.

Too selfish to let go I hold on tighter. I hang on like I’m drowning. I am drowning. But you aren’t a life preserver. You’re just another swimmer, trying to help me. It isn’t your job to keep me afloat. And in my panic I pull you under. Anything to save myself. It isn’t until I’m safely ashore that I realize you are nowhere to be seen.

“It bothered me a lot that you lied as much as you did”.

We talked for an hour and a half, exactly 82 mins. And I told you how I had no secrets left to hide. I had shown you my most raw, vulnerable, ugly self. We talked about our mistakes- mainly my mistakes- and our issues- only my issues- and came to the conclusion that the separation was inevitable. Just like a meteor barreling towards earth or nuclear warfare, it was a force that could not be stopped. I told you how I hated your music, and bowling, and the way you always kept tabs on me. I hated that you knew my secret and held it like leverage against me. I felt like my confession was just a test to you. 

Between the drawn out silences I could hear your car heater in the background, blasting so your windows didn’t fog up. You share a room with two other boys, live with six. It makes sense that the only place of your own was your car. Your responses are slow but your words slice through me as quick as a sword. 

Ouch, I say jokingly. But like most things I say, there’s truth in it. It does hurt. Everything sounds accusatory. It was me who wasn’t ready, it was me who had problems to fix, it was me that needed to change to be with you. And though I didn’t even want to be with you, it still felt like the deepest rejection a human could ever experience. I told you I didn’t want to lie to you because I cared about you. Oh how you value honesty. But that was a lie. I told you because I thought I owed it to you. You knew every other little thing about me, so what was one final secret? 

“Thank you for finally letting me know everything I do appreciate that”

How I desperately wish I had just one secret to myself. Something that you hadn’t touched yet. Everything. I had told you everything. Finally. I’d known you for three weeks. Yet you had been waiting, expecting. You thought I owed you my secrets. My hands shake as I read that final line. “I do appreciate that”. I feel used, I feel drained. I feel frightened to ever trust another soul. 

We are sitting a foot apart. You’re within arm’s reach, and if I tried, I could touch you. But I don’t because truthfully you couldn’t be more far away. The entire night was a mess. I was falling apart before it even began and you noticed, as you always do. Stupidly, I told you we had to talk. And we joked about how serious it sounded. You laughed and chatted effortlessly with the others, and I tried to muster a response, but it came out pained. As we walked toward the car you asked if I wanted to go somewhere else, do something else. And in that moment it would have been so easy to say yes; to go back to the way things were.

I told you to drive me home. And before we even left the parking lot I spilled. I told you my deepest, darkest secret, which only three people knew. I trusted you. In my head I thought for sure it wouldn’t change a thing. You already knew I feared commitment. You already knew that sometimes my brain was on fire and other times it could hardly hold a spark. I told you my silliest childhood stories. I told you about my sister.

You could hardly look at me the entire time. And even though you said I wasn’t a terrible person, it felt like I was. I felt like I let you down, like I betrayed you. I accepted your decision because I thought it wasn’t fair to you to be with someone as damaged as me. But now I realize it wasn’t me, it was you.