it’s really strange reading my old writing. i stumbled across this and i’m not sure how i feel about it. or about my (old??) self. something about this terrifies me and i cant decide if im a bad person or a changed person so im going to repost it and keep re-reading it until i reach a decision


no i wont let you in and its not that i dont want to and its not that i havent tried. i wont because i cant.

i cant let you in because i like the chase more than the reward. ill want you just until you want me a little more. ill hunt you until i catch your eye, then innocently recoil back to my post and casually but cruelly throw you off my scent every now and then, just for kicks. when you are seconds away from the final capture, ill have you believing you won but you will have already been freed, and i already onto the next. catch and release, i think they call it.

i like to play pretend. i pretend you are what i crave inside me as i thrust into my empty bed at night. i pretend ive never gazed into anybody’s eyes the way im melting into yours, and you eat it up like a slice of the sweetest cake. i pretend im giggling from the trickle of your lips down my back when, really, i just cant help but laugh at morbidity of this all. pretending is fun because i know “us” only exists in the time and space i am with you, nothing before and nothing after. and that somehow makes me feel safe. safer than ive ever felt in your arms, inside your jacket, inches away from your melting heart.

i cant let you in because im scared i wont be able get rid of you. you will have heard my stories too soberly, seen my blemishes too vividly, touched me too sensually, and you will have enough of me inside you that i would have no choice but to keep you. because giving you away would be giving those parts of me away and i have never been known to be that generous.

i play by the rules. i never linger too long with you under the sheets just in case i slip and begin to believe the reckless sweet nothings you whisper in my ear. i always tell you just enough of my dusty secrets so you feel i confide in you, but i never actually show you the dark corners in which they reside. i childishly latch onto your arm as we carelessly roam the streets, but i never ever look at our reflection in those cafe windows filled with real people with real feelings. that reflection would be as phony as i am, and im not sure if i would burst out in laughter or tears.

i cant let you in because that, to me, is the ultimate commitment. more permanent than a label, a set of keys, a ring, or an ‘i do.’ i suppose this is because ive evolved to survive on my own – i dont need you or anyone else, really, and i certainly dont pass out the power to destroy this stubbornly safe world ive created in my head. so letting you in means that i am letting you have a part of me that i will never be my own again. once youre gone (and we both know you will be), im not sure that i’ll still know who i am, and that frightens me to no end.

but please, dont get me wrong, i really like you. i like you a lot. i promise i never set out with malicious intentions of trickery or deception. this is just the only way i know how to be with you. i dont know if youll ever pass my stubborn walls, but until then, im going let you think that you know me. im going to convince you that this is something i want, something ive never had and never will again. but only, of course, if thats okay with you.


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