airport calls, that kiss on my cheek
I read my emails to J four years ago and it made me sick. To think why I wanted to end it with her still hasn't changed all these years later, and I haven't been able to start anything with anyone else for exactly the same reason. I know I clung onto her because I was needy and afraid, and she wasn't. Thrown into the same environment that left me exposed and anxious, she seemed so unaffected, poker faced, so devastatingly cool. I wanted some of that to rub off on me. It's the way I've always been consumed by my attraction to people, identifying qualities seemingly thriving in them which I felt deficient in me, wanting to win them over because if I did, that would mean conquering the abyss somehow, being one step closer to salvation. I'm sure she's fine without me, I'm sure she's had two promotions and taken out a huge fucking mortgage somewhere nice, and someone else has been seduced by her utterly impenetrable exterior and impressive mind.
I craved her presence, I couldn't keep my hands off her, I was brazen in pushing the limits until she was in a position to truly reciprocate rather than receive, then I panicked and drew into myself like I do every time it starts to become real and not just a game. I convinced myself how much the process of trying to make her love me hurt, until she did and I crushed her with my unpreparedness. I hated myself and my choices and my inability to find a place in the world, and I couldn't stomach having to confront my failure each time I was around her. So I told myself I didn't want the burden, I had too much power because I gave all of myself too readily in the beginning. She fed off it and starved when I gave no more. I withdrew from everything and everyone. She became another failure of intimacy, another person I "had feelings for" that I now no longer speak to.
I craved her presence, I couldn't keep my hands off her, I was brazen in pushing the limits until she was in a position to truly reciprocate rather than receive, then I panicked and drew into myself like I do every time it starts to become real and not just a game. I convinced myself how much the process of trying to make her love me hurt, until she did and I crushed her with my unpreparedness. I hated myself and my choices and my inability to find a place in the world, and I couldn't stomach having to confront my failure each time I was around her. So I told myself I didn't want the burden, I had too much power because I gave all of myself too readily in the beginning. She fed off it and starved when I gave no more. I withdrew from everything and everyone. She became another failure of intimacy, another person I "had feelings for" that I now no longer speak to.