I've never been afraid of empty spaces. In fact, you know how much I detest crowds and cramped spaces, almost to the point of claustrophobia. There's a certain unpleasantness in having to compete for space and having to get stuck with people I don't know—especially with relationships.
I've always thought of myself as a lone wolf. I manage best on my own. Friends are great, but the freedom of making decisions for myself and not having to depend on anyone appeals to me. In the last couple of years I've managed to train myself in the art of self-sufficience. I've gone from clingy to detached. Don't ask me how or why, but something changed.
Lately, however, I'm starting to become afraid again. Those careless, costly mistakes are taking their toll. I'm running the risk of losing you—and despite my best efforts, I'm absolutely terrified.
You see, you are an exception. To others I'm calm and collected. I laugh and I'm silly, and I care deeply for my friends, but even my closest friends only go so deep. It's gotten to the point where there's an automatic barrier that they can't simply cross. I'm also the best quitter there is—when something annoys or disinterests me, I walk away. I avoid, I resist, and I hide. But you I can never hide from.
With you I'm rash, impractical, emotional; totally irrational. I'm child-like—both when I try too hard to be cute, and when I forget that I'm not supposed to be too vulnerable. I don't know if that's the worst of me, but it's the part of me that drops my defenses. I guess it's also what allows me to feel most contented and at peace when I'm with you.
But with what I've been doing, I've been shutting you out. I apologize for being selfish and stupid and uncaring. It's far less than what you deserve.
It's amazing how you put up with me for the last seven years, when every now and then I have to pull a major overhaul of my attitudes. But here I go again. Someday soon, I'll make it up to you and all that patience will pay off.
I'll make sure of that. Because there are some things I can't afford to lose.
It seems, that the only space I'm afraid to leave empty is the one I've reserved exclusively for you.
12 comments:
This is really sad and really sweet. It touched a part of me I didn't know existed. It's never easy to love a writer. It takes a specific amount of patience and sensitivity. Seven years is seven years. I hope he never tires of the space you saved for him. :)
Writers can be such difficult people (or at least, I can). I'm hoping for the best. :)
And for the record, it's a her. Haha. She is very patient, and I give her credit for being able to understand me. :)
I echo citybuoy. Also, I love the last sentence. Here's to another seven.
http://ficklecattle.blogspot.com/
Thank you Fickle Cattle! :D
I'll be reading. :)
She is very lucky. Not a lot of people have the courage to admit their weaknesses (even [or should i say especially?] to the one they care for the most). :)
Haha, hi Juvy. Ako nga ang maswerte eh. She saves me from myself. Haha.
I could not agree more! This is so sweet and cute. :)
Thanks Novie. :D
so sweet...i can almost hear the last words...
7 years? wow! :)
I like the last line - really sweet ;)
Thank you Straight-ish! :)
Well, the first four years were puppy love-ish. Hahaha. High school days. :)) She doesn't count the on-off months/years but I do. :))
ah yes! good ol' highschool days ;)
Keep the Looove Burning!
write ka pa ha :)
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