I Can Feel You Falling, You’re Slipping Through My Fingers

I’m not an easy person to be in a relationship with. At the start things are fairly light, we’re getting to know one another little by little — but things don’t stay light for long. My thoughts wander to serious and sometimes gloomy places and my reactionary attempt to wade through the mess of feelings often does more to muck things up than before. I have no doubt that my sudden onset of worry and lack of emotional regulation is difficult to deal with, and it’s near impossible to predict, but please don’t be discouraged.

Inevitably, we sit down to talk things through. Things become tense and we’re suddenly both on edge. I start to feel shaky and I lack confidence in my ability to communicate all the thoughts that are swirling around inside me. I want a chance to write it out and deliver it, a chance to organize my response, but we need to take care of this, we need to hash it out on the spot.

The words come out too quickly and in all the wrong order — just like they always do. They’re not reassuring and seem to fly in the face of your desire for clear answers and a definite resolution. As words fly across the chasm, I become defensive and you let go of my hand and start to pull away, but please don’t pull away from me.

When the distance between us grows, I panic. My mind begins reeling and I worry that this is it. I am not a rational person, I am quick to jump to conclusions and my emotions have far more sway over me than they probably should. When the cascade of words begin their descent from my mind, when they round my shoulder and roll down my arm, when they pour from finger tips and are turned to ink against the page there’s no stopping them. The worry and panic fill the pages and I’m left with a sense of resolution because it’s done, they’re out and all I have to show for this process is the written representation of my fears; certainly not a flattering or reassuring sight. Where there wasn’t any doubt, I may have just planted one.

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