I tried to tell him we needed to stop. We needed to break up. I tried to tell him, “I’m in my thirties, we can’t keep acting like teenagers. Jumping into bed at all hours of the day. Really, we have to end it, clean slate. No more baby, no more weekends. This is it. There’s nothing we can do but avoid each other.”
I stood in his arms, palms covering my face, my tears streaming uncontrollably.
He said he wouldn’t let that happen, he said, “you can try, but I won’t let you avoid me.”
He stood facing me, grounded, keeping his arms right on my waist, looking into my eyes softly.
That has never happened to me, I have never had anyone, ever, try to be with me like that before.
I don’t know how I felt it, I just knew it was eventually going to feel like shards of glass, for the both of us. I knew he felt so sad for me. I felt his sadness pierce my heart. And I could tell he was being so strong, he was holding it together, just for me. In that moment, truly, just so my tears would stop.
What’s more is, I could feel he wanted to cry, I knew he was battling so much himself, but I don’t know why he felt like he needed to comfort me; more than any guy I’d ever been with. More than I’d ever received.
I’m sorry I show you my vulnerabilities. I’m sorry I tell you things about me. I know it all only makes you want to protect me more, help me more. Make you fall for me even more.
I’m sorry. It’s the biggest fight, it’s the toughest choice. I want to spend days with you and nights with you, but I don’t know if, in the end I want to be with you.
I hid my face behind my hair, head down, I let my tears fall. It was too dark in his room anyway. My soul didn’t show through anyway.