The Rock.
I don’t know when I decided that I wouldn’t be vulnerable. I can’t remember what made me decide that I would always be the strong one, the one others would lean on and that I would keep things bottled up. Although I don’t know when, I’m pretty sure my own vanity led me here. So here I am. Once again, word vomiting my thoughts, writing and re-writing my emotions in order to better understand myself.
Today, I am surrounded by half packed boxes, pumped up with supermarket brand energy drink that I opened 36 hours ago, trying to piece together why yet again at the end of things my heart reaches for you.
I am on the cusp of a new adventure. So I construct conversations in my head with you. What you would say, how you would handle things, what arguments we’d have. But I don’t know you anymore. I don’t know what you’re doing, who you’re with, if you’d react the same way, if we’d really have those arguments. I have resurrected a fossilised memory of you, I think because it is comforting? The echo of you I have in my heart is a security blanket that makes the reality less terrifying. I have quit my job. I am moving very far away. I am taking my driving test soon. I am packing up my whole life into 15 boxes and I am scared.
You were always my biggest supporter. My cheerleader. The one who knew the right combination of encouragement and stern to make me trust in myself. It’s so freaking weird that the more things I do by myself, the more resentful I become of you not being here to do them with me. In every success I achieve, I am bitter that I had to experience it all alone.
It’s actually rather selfish of me. I’ve just realised, in all this time, I haven’t really wondered what you are doing as a complete person. What successes have you achieved, what lows you are experiencing. I can’t tell if that’s because I’m a monster or if it’s an act of self preservation, either way I think that’s enough introspection. I have a life to box up.
