Inevitability

I wish I was braver. I can be pathetically weak when it comes to taking a stand. I crumple. No where does this show itself more obviously than in my relationships.

I should preface by saying that many of my relationships are healthy--that is to say, the established ones. There's a reason, though, why I can count so few people as my close friends. I'm awful in new relationships. I'm neurotic and obsequious. It's not that I lose myself, but in my desperate attempt to make a connection, I tend to shove myself away. I hang on tenterhooks waiting to speak to a potential friend again. It would be pitiful if it wasn't so off-putting.

I suppose most people don't consciously notice it. We all love attention and flattery, so it would take a peculiarly aware--dare I say, abnormal--person to find my behavior unappealing. Inevitably, however, this new-found connection will pass on, done with me. Don't take it the wrong way, most people don't do this maliciously. It's natural to make transitions in life, and if you find yourself becoming bored with activities or conversations, well: by all means, transition. Never mind that all those actions and words are attached to a person. Never mind that she cares so much more than you.

If I may backtrack for a moment, I want to address the nature of inevitabilities. They, in and of themselves, are not so bad, I think. Humans are so marvelously resilient. If we're thrown down, we jump back up. If we fail one way, we try another. It's the drive to never give up, to keep on against the odds, to test out limits in survival. So, then, when we face an inevitability, we aren't thrown off course. We recognize the situation and do what we must to make ourselves comfortable with the outcome. (Not in altogether healthy ways, at times, but the point isn't lost.)

It isn't the inevitable failure of friendship itself that I fear, it's the circumstances surrounding it. I hate not knowing the when, where, and why. The knowledge is so impossibly general, so abstract, that I find myself unable to move past it. When a friendship is ended it isn't just that you have one less person in your life--it's the emotional upheaval, the physical loss of presence, and a cache full of aching memories. That's what I fear, and that's what I know nothing of.

I wish I could be brave and say, "Here's my heart, don't fucking break it." That's what I want to say, but I can never bring myself to. The truth is that they can break it, tear it, constrict it, riddle it full of holes, just as long as they don't let go. Don't let go, and you can treat me how you like. I feel connected to you, I may even love you--please don't drop me.

The worst part is, I haven't found another way. When I hide myself, they move on. When I let myself shine through our encounters, they move on faster. I feel so tossed around that when I finally make that connection--when I'm able to take hold of something solid--I'm so starved and desperate that I overcompensate. I'm so fearful of losing it that I don't dare let myself show and compromise the situation.

Call it codependency. Call it neuroses. Call it low self-esteem.

I call it justifiable fear.