(no subject)
For now I am trying to figure out if I ran away from you for my sake, or for yours, or for the both of us. For the both of us? Are things really as complicated as that, or does it just seem that way? Which ones are really my reasons, and which have I added on for the sake of comfort or sanity or (I certainly hope not) self-righteousness? Is there one particular thing that made me panic in your presence and purposely put miles between us? Could the impulse be identified as a defect in my genetic makeup, or maybe a particular pattern of neurons firing for some deepseated, specific purpose? I bet that you could tell me. I bet that you could point to the part of me that is afraid, and I bet that in that moment I would be free of this, and you would be inside my head again, and I would be safe and weightless and wondering for the first time in my life if love might actually be something I believe in. But I can't ask you. I've put you out of my reach. And even if I tried to retrace my steps, even if you happened to be there waiting like you were before, you wouldn't stay, because people don't. The terror would rush back - because you know me now. You've seen my insides, enough to guess that I feel the void of your absence the moment you leave my side. And there it is. Everything I can't and will not say to you. Who am I protecting? Does it matter? We could both be crushed by the weight of what this has become for me. So I will put miles between us, unless you call me back, unless you recognize this for what it could be, unless you find greatness looking back at you through my eyes, unless I leave a space in your life that cannot be filled any other way.