And next thing you know, we’re texting every day. I know a lot about her. She’s poured unto me everything beneath her skin; I’ve laid upon her some of my deepest thoughts and insecurities. I’ve carved a dependence into her life. You would think this is a double-ended sword but familiarity makes me immune. I know this old tune and how it goes and there’s a bitterness to it.
Then it’s just a matter of time before my wandering eyes spot a scapegoat.
And then I detach, violently.
I’ve afforded them no explanation. If they cared they would dig deeper.
I’ve also afforded them an explanation. The ends don’t justify the means.
I’ve done this before. It’s muscle memory by now.
I feel great. I haven’t spoken to this one in a week. It was painful when she followed up after three days and asked “are we not okay?”. It’s best we give each other space. I get over feelings systematically. Her – not so much.
I’m only now wondering how it’s like on the other end. I’ve never been on that side before. How does it feel to have someone so close pull away so abruptly?
We didn’t have a future together – what are we even doing? Why are we wasting our Now when we have no Later? Let’s just move on.
I’m great at cutting people off. I’ve told her this. I’ve gotten good. It’s not healthy. “Am I next?” she joked. I don’t remember what I said.
I think I need counselling.