Attention seeking behavior is filthy and dangerous. And I want to tell you so much that you should be afraid of me, but that in itself would be attention seeking behavior. Its hard to understand, sometimes, what you pick up on, what you don't, when you ignore me on purpose because you know or at least you think that its what I need. It's good. Even if you gauge it wrong in that moment, it all helps me to gain control of myself.
Am I being impulsive? I don't know. My life is not composed of compulsive actions, but I certainly entertain a lot of thoughts that I never follow through on. Does that make me impulsive? I think the fact that I told you, that I put it not only into words but into the dynamic of our relationship, says that this is one of those thoughts I might actually follow through on. I'm not sure that that makes it any less impulsive, but it would certainly be an outlier if it were impulsive.
Here's the really creepy part. I've already started looking for apartments. Comparing prices and square footage. Looking for areas that are close to your parents and convenient for the work we both see ourselves doing at that time. But don't worry, the thought never leaves my mind that it is TOO FUCKING EARLY for this. The way you lay yourself out there, it makes me feel like I know you really, really well, like there's nothing much I could learn in the coming months that could change my mind about you. But what worries me to the ends of the earth is that you're going to discover something about me that you can't stand, and I will already be invested, and be broken, again. Not the way you've been broken, but you know how can I hurt. You have your curse. This is mine. I haven't earned the right to feel so strongly but I feel it anyway. So really, what I'm afraid of is, I'm going to plan around this, plan for us, and then you'll find something you don't like and all that will fall apart. And I don't know what happens after that. I have a pattern, but its changing. And that pattern has never been in context of trying to find my way in the world outside of the school context. None of this is your problem I just happen to be thinking it. Moving on.
Anyways. Sometimes I feel like you're holding a stick of dynamite in your arms and you refuse to see what's there. But I feel like, if I can keep control of myself, that we could be something. I don't know what. But just for a year, I'd like to try. For all I can guess you would just move back in with your parents at the end of that year. But my plan, to go to medical school and work for the military, it involves a lot of being alone. And I want this experience, I don't want to wait another ten years. And I feel like, we could both benefit from this, if we're careful.
I know I'm moving too fast. I can't help it, I mean I guess I could but it would take a lot of mental effort. I just want to tell you, this is where I am. And even though you stir up all my psychoses, I feel like they're getting weaker, and that this, us, is a good thing.
I don't know how you know it, and in your position I could never trust it, but it is true. I will never, ever try to hurt you. I may manipulate. I may seek attention. I may break apart just so that you'll save me. I'm going to try really hard not to but when shit gets bad, that's what happens. But I won't be them. At worst, I will leave you so that I can't hurt you. That's my truth.
Because regardless of where I am, or how I feel about you, you deserve to be treated right. It just is.
And even trying to tell you this, this way, is attention seeking behavior. You can barely keep your eyes open. And you're probably interpreting me sitting up typing as passive aggressive behavior. Or perhaps you're too tired to give it any thought at all. The fact that you can barely keep your head up and yet continue to play gives me two thoughts. One, that it would be incredibly selfish of me to impinge upon your sleep time any more than I already have. And two, that your time management skills are just as bad as mine. And perhaps there's an addiction involved? I think that's a pretty severe judgment, though. We all have to cope. And talking about it isn't enough, not for you or for me or your mom. There has to be a distraction, something to divert activity away from that part of the brain while it heals from the insults that raise our blood pressure and would drive us to screaming at mirrors if we didn't let it out through... whatever.
How did I find you?
And now I begin to wonder if you know exactly what I'm trying to do, and you're not humoring me because you want me to get my shit together and say this shit out loud. Tall order, big boy. I don't talk very well. I write. And when I write, everything fits together. Almost.
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