Hazy Horizons Part 2
I woke and I was terrified.
I was terrified I was going to lose myself in loving you. I had already began giving up my armor, growing accustomed to the idea of you loving me, a reality that was never my own. The worst part was I finally realized all that I had been missing. You see it’s easier to be alive but not truly living before you have truly lived—after not so much.
So I ran. I scrambled out of your embrace, got dressed and tried to leave before you woke but I wasn’t that lucky. Instead I was greeted with your soft smile and loving eyes asking me where I was going. I made up a quick excuse with a promise to call later. As I started to turn away you called me back and placed a gentle kiss on my lips.
I left.
I was panicking. My hands were shaking as I tried to unravel the flood of emotions from my problem, in order to reach a concrete solution. I repeated the story of us until I could see through it clearly.
For so long I thought it was your eyes that I was drawn to, the way they lit up in a room, it was a spark of something I wasn’t used to. But now picturing your face, your eyes aren’t what gripped me to my core.
It was your smile. How it was soft, confident yet not beaming; you were content. Content, a feeling I always yearned for but I’m just not the kind of person that can be content. I’m always wanting more or wanting less, never quite sure of who I am other than in the moment. And despite my desire for a different life, I don’t think you could handle my shifting tides—no one else ever could.
My breathing came out uneven despite my intent to seek control.
I just don’t think I can handle getting my hopes up with you, I’m already too far off the ground, and if I keep going I’m going to pass all the storm clouds, trusting the clear skies as a constant.
My eyes began to water.
I’m terrified because I think this fall might be the one that I won’t be able to recover from.
Tears forming at their edge.
I know I’m supposed to say loving you is worth broken bones, and maybe it is, but it’s not worth permanent loss of function.
I inhale.
I’m not quite ready to lose myself in the process of loving you.
And I hold my breath tightly around the root of my problem.
The first tear drops and all of a sudden I’m crying hysterically to drain the heartbreak that reaches my root. My stomach turns and I want to puke. Physically I can’t so instead I puke up the hope I finally let myself swallow. The aftertaste of regret lingers in my mouth.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t match my sleeve with your heart, it’s too fragile to exist outside my rib cage. The worst part is that I know despite its safe keep, it’s withering away in chains. But if I’m going to lose it anyway, I rather not deal with the heartbreak. I know I can stomach the complete loss of loving, I had already begun the process of decay before I met you.
The tears no longer excessively ran down my cheeks carving a salt stream, just stray trails diverging from the river.
Can you forgive me for running away? For not loving you like its easy because we both know it’s not, and I’ve never been good at lying.
My eyes are dry but I can still feel the path they carved through me.
I’m being more vulnerable by running away, rather than staying and always keeping my heart two feet away. I’m admitting the extent of my damage, the reasons I can’t be what you need me to be.
My bones ache and I feel them collapse into each other. I lack the energy to do anything but accept it.
I’m walking away before I ruin you softly and slowly. Before I love you so much it turns to pain. I don’t want you be in pain because of my limitations. Maybe it’s you who I don’t want getting their hopes up.
My eyes fall shut with a truth that is too much.
I can’t think of anything more heartbreaking than loving you but not being able to catch you when you fall, forever living with the guilt of your pieces, and how I could of prevented it all: by being honest. So I’m being honest. And honestly, I’m clinging to the ground, so you can leave me safe and sound.
~~~
Short Story by Nicole Asherah. Nicole Asherah is an artist who tries to connect people to intimate moments, feelings, and relationships experienced throughout life through her poetry, paintings, and photography.
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