Black Fear

I wrote of wanting more.  Of wanting the hidden things, of wanting him to open up and share everything with me.

But, the second I feel it coming I run.  I don't understand my fear.

I said something a long time ago. He remembers it. I said something along the lines of "it'll be all I think about, don't tell me anything."

I need to grow up.

I need to explain what I meant, but I'm also scared of what that could do.

The more I think the more confused I get, and the more I hate myself. My insane complexity. I hate that I'm not like other people. I hate that I'm a writer. I hate that I'm a poet. I hate that the things I feel, the depth I perceive in myself is nothing. It's a shallow, stagnant pool of turbid water, and he is the clear ocean.

I feel small.

I'm afraid of myself.

I want to be simple. I want to bypass the knots and the mess in my mind. I want to be normal. I want to be a person who can see the simple things, who can be good and strong and selfless, who isn't afraid of everything...

I want to be the woman he deserves.

I'm so confused.

____

Too sensitive is a flaw.

Very demanding... Another flaw.

Needy... A third flaw.

The need to be his focus... Just like he is mine. Not everyone is like me.

I would drop everything and run to him if I thought he needed me.

I have so much love to give.  And in return I need as much.

I don't ask for anything. Even if I want something.