Once upon a time, I slept and woke to an empty bed. I wasn’t surprised though; I had every right to be alone. It wasn’t like I had committed an abominable crime though, but I had hurt him in a much worse way.
We were seated on the living room sofa, having just finished watching a movie we just sat there cuddled up in each other. Then he broke the silence, and we began to converse about random things. Everything was going fine until he asked a question that I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I can’t even bring myself to say the words.
He knows how I get when it comes to things like this but he asked anyway and I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at him. He had every right to ask because we had been together for a while now and I’ve become more comfortable around him, but this was entirely different.
He had opened up to me, thorn himself apart in front of me to the point of complete vulnerability. He did it because he loved me and wanted me to know and trust him completely, I understood that and for the life of me I trusted him with my soul. As shocking as that may sound I do trust him completely. The only problem was that he wanted to test how much I did, unfortunately that didn’t end well.
He was upset that I couldn’t let him in. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t show him my inner demons. I couldn’t open up to him as he did. What he didn’t understand is that the choice was completely up to me. I have spent years crawling out of the pit that life had thrown me into. After I crawled out, I spent another set of years building walls to prevent me from falling back into that pit. He had every right to ask that question ‘How did you get your scars?’ what he didn’t realise was that I had every right not to answer.
I would like to answer his question. Pour out my entire soul to him, but I just can’t. The moment the question or anything at all connecting to that comes up, my walls immediately come up. It’s a defence mechanism to protect myself. He doesn’t understand that the pain is too much for me to bare. He cannot possibly realise that the moment I open those gates I may get trapped and never to be able to escape. In the case of an escape, he doesn’t know how long that’s going to take. He doesn’t know that if I go back there, he may never see me again. The pain and sorrow would be too much for me to move on from and death may be my only escape.
I have him now. We can fight this together. Those words have pushed me to tell him willingly but the stronger part of me that says I won’t survive the trip keeps my entire being at a standstill. I’m not willing or ready to find out what might be the result of that trip.
He left upset last night, and I don’t blame him at all. I should be able to tell him but I’m not willing to take that risk. You can say I’m being selfish, but I don’t care, you have no idea what I went through.
As I sit in this lonely bed I’m still trying to figure out how to fix things without destroying myself in the process. No matter how much I love and trust him he can never know.
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