I know the saying. You made your bed now lie in it. And I did! And it was one of the worse sleeps I have ever had. I tried to pull the covers over my head but the monster still got me. It held me close and whispered things in my ear that chilled me to my toes. And when I tried to fight back my cries were unheard and my defense was something incredibly pathetic.
I hated my mother for a long time. I did. But now I understand. And while I will never be like her in some ways, in other ways we are just alike. She held my hand on rare occassions and whispered advice to me about the monster. I was stupid though, naive and young. I refused to listen. But now I see that she was right. I owe her an apology. The dance was new to her but the steps were familiar.
I have found that I cannot slightly dislike anyone anymore. Now my disgust forms like something dark and sticky until it tries to manifest itself as something violent. Yes, a violent dislike. And I stupidly supress it. I let it blossom into the ugliest flower ever. It will probably end up becoming a tumor and killing me before I am thirty.
Which brings me to my next point. I know your ailment. I recognize the symptoms. I held out hope that you would get better but now I am just ready to pull the plug. You still cannot hold my hand but I will stay and watch just to know that it is over.
How horrible is it that I do not want to tell you the good in fear that you will poison it with something bad? I guess there can be love without trust... Do I give it too easily? I wasn't completely honest. Some of these fears I cling to are a result of you and I. I was not okay with it but I was willing to let it continue until I slept in that bed. But not anymore. I am ready to sleep alone now in a bed I make alone but do not have to share.
But what do I know? I could not possibly be right if you are involved. So read these words but hear what you want. Say the same things that I do but just for yourself and then call me a hypocrite. But it is not a secret anymore. I know. I am not sure who I can tell who either does not already know or can do something about it. I just wanted you to know that you are not as stealthy as you thought. Your feet are big and your steps are clumsy. I may lay in the dark with my eyes closed but I know you are there... Why do you think I refuse to open my eyes? I am afraid of what you will see there. It will either be a fierce loathing or quiet tears. And I know you will ridicule me for either.
I gave you my secret and now I have yours. But you still will not call it even. Can you put your arm around that cold happiness and pull it close? I thought I was ready to surrender but now I have something to prove and someone to save... me.
