I realised half way through his grand speech…
I should have been listening. We were doing a good job of arguing our irrational points, rationally. But then I realised it didn’t really matter. My opinion wasn’t coming from anger or frustration as I had thought, it was coming from somewhere else, so I waited patiently for him to stop talking.
Then I choked out my secret and hoped that he would realise how hard this was for me and wouldn’t just start talking again.
‘I’m really scared.’ The words tumbled out of my mouth with the ease of water through a hair clogged drain.
Every time I get into his car to explain what neurotic way I’ve plotted my escape, thats really just me desperately pawing at the surface of ice that seems to encompass my mind and inhibit my heart. I’m not going to employ any excuses this time.
It’s my fault, I know that. It’s romantic to pretend that both of us are whats making this hard, but if I was just a little bit stupider, a tiny bit more ‘teenaged girl’, I would be much easier to love.
But I’m not stupid and I never quite figured out how to be a teenager.
I make it harder by not being the least bit ashamed of all my worst attributes. Surely the least I could do is be sad about my inability to trust people and embarrassed about my obsession with control. But I’m not, because those are my things. They belong to me and their power belongs to me.
Instead, I hold a far more dangerous opinion. I think it is so beautiful, how terrified I am.
How fragile I pretend I’m not, astounds me. And the fact that I try so hard to pretend that my fear is anything else, thrills me. It thrills me because it’s so beautifully human. How lovely is it that I get angry at you for being so goddamn romantic? All because the idea that someone could actually fall in love with all that I am terrifies me to the core. It’s not insecure, I know I’m worthy of love, I just didn't think anyone else would see that.
I am so scared that this is all some kind of joke.
That your eye contact and your smile and you laugh is all some cruel trick. The gods have never been that nice to me, any second now I’m postive they’ll decide to roll the dice and tip the board. That you’ll turn out exactly how I imagine you will.
That you’ll finally get the girl, turn around with a laugh and say, ‘Just kidding, I was just playing sweetheart,’.
I’m scared beyond what I imagined I could be, that you’ll prove me right.
You can think that I’m crazy, over emotional, neurotic, whatever word you want to use, but I’m not. Underneath all of that, is a very sweet, very kind, little girl, who has learned too many times that she wasn’t born to live out her happy endings.
Who is just desperately trying to protect her soul from anymore rough hands.