I never knew where he stood and what he thought about it. About my actions and reactions, and fights and battles.
About all that made me small in life, all that made me weak and negative and in search of attention and validation.
I never let him pass judgment on the issues, never paused to listen if he had opinions. I didn’t want him to be part of it, I didn’t want him to see the depth of my inner torture.
And ofcourse he felt glimpses of it, me utterly broken – or ferociously angry – or predictably needy. But he left it unquestioned. He let me dwell on it, lose myself in it, on my own.
But this time, I wanna work through my problems and your problems. I want us to be so open, that it’s so terrifying it’s comforting. This time I’ll walk you through my dreamy, manic, kind, jagged brain, and wait for you to show me yours.