I don’t trust myself.

It took me three months after he left to realize he never should have stayed. It took me three months to realize that what happened in August wasnt normal. To realize that I didnt know what normal was. It took me three months to the day after he left me to understand that it wasnt love. It was crisis. Two people so desperately needing to be held, to be cared for, to feel safe in a world that was constantly coming down on them so hard that there wasnt and still isnt an end in sight, that they convinced thenselves it was normal for love to make your stomach hurt.

That cant be right, can it? It cant be right that falling in love is supposed to feel the same as being hit by a car. It cant be right that falling in love happens so quickly that you go from sneaking off to your car with him to share an impassioned kiss during work to living together in a matter of weeks. That cant be right. It cant be right that love is supposed to feel like a panic attack. Like driving a box truck off a bridge with your future strapped in behind you.

But now the panic attack is over. Now I'm empty. Sitting in a corner, face wet with tears, but its been three fucking months. You have been sitting in that corner for three fucking months trying everything to just stand up. Just stand up. How am I still here? He was never here. He must not know how bad it was. Or maybe he does and he doesnt care. All of that blows - I mean it feels like my lungs shrunk and my brain is too big for my skull - but the worst part of it is that I miss it.

I dont miss him. He was just a body. Just the person who did the thing. But I would give anything I had to get the thing back. To feel love that strong again. But it wasnt love and I know that. So what do I want? Crisis? In a way, crisis is kind of nice. It's something to focus on, somewhere to put your energy - its something to blame. I'm crying because I'm in crisis. It sounds so much better than I'm crying because I didnt realize I was broken before it was too late in the game to fix myself. Now I have to wait for time to pass. I have to wait to heal the slow way.

But as I'm waiting there are these people that pass me by and kneel down. They offer to help me stand, they offer to wash my face and carry me to the couch so I can finally sleep peacefully. They offer to make me coffee in the morning and brush my hair while I get ready for work. Kind people, people who care for me in a way he never did. I want to go with them. To stand for them. To let them help me. But I dont trust myself to stay away from that truck. I dont trust myself not to drive them off the bridge with me. I dont trust myself not to break thse people. Good people. People who dont deserve what I cant say for sure I wont do to them.

But what do I say? What do I tell these people who see me, a pile of broken glass on the floor, and offer to help me put myself back together? How do I tell them that I'm sorry but I cant accept their help because im pretty sure that some day I'll just magically be unbroken again? And how do I tell them that no matter how hard I try theres a chance that while their putting me back together one of my jagged edges might cut them? How do you look at kind people offering help and tell them you cant take it because if you do you might drag them down into that corner with you?

How do I tell them I dont trust myself not to hurt people the way he hurt me? How do I tell them I dont trust myself not to leave them with a stomach ache in three months wondering how they didnt see where this was going?