You make me feel whole, complete. You make things easy. You can read my mind. You make my heart beat easier. You hold me so tight I can't breathe, yet breathing comes easier with you. You allow me to smile. You allow me to laugh. You enable happiness. You want the undesirable person I have become. You're the opposite of everything I have known.
You and I have our own lives, yet can come together as one instantaneously. We look and sound like everything love should be. But the catch is me, the catch is me. The strings attached are fear and pain and depression. The catch is me.
I don't trust it. I don't trust the completeness to be real. I don't trust the easiness, the heartbeats, the breathing, the smile. I have this awful premonition that it's all a joke, a farse, a trick. That the evil universe will morph you into the boy. That the boy will return and hurt you. That the depression will infect you, or repel you, or kill you. I have this premonition of fleeting bliss, and I do not trust that there is any permanence. I'm waiting for it to end. I'm expecting solidarity to return.
Lack of trust killed me last time. Will it kill me again?
It's so exhausting and painful. I've put up so many walls and barriers and motes with alligators and fire breathing dragons. And it's not a matter of him getting past them--for he has with ease--but it's a matter of me opening the last door for him, for there is only a handle on my side of the wall, and he has no power over whether or he may enter. It's exhausting. I'm so tired of guarding myself, yet I doubt that I will ever stop.
The boy is still in my life in this way. It's not fair, and not controllable. It's not preventable, yet not my fault. All I know how to do is hope that one day it will stop, and he will be gone for good.
All I know how to do is hope that one day I will open the door.
-Beaskie
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