Do you know me?

Distance is supposed to hurt; closeness is supposed to feel good. So why is it that, the closer to get to someone, the more it hurts? The little things that never bothered you before now have you fuming in jealousy. The fears that never crossed your mind back then now have total power over you, like thoughts of them suddenly disappearing one day, thoughts of them suddenly changing their mind about you.

My body is exhausted, but my mind is wide awake. I can’t feel my body anymore. I’m living so deeply in my mind because my thoughts are consuming me whole. I’m so, so, so tired, yet I refuse to let myself rest. I have to keep going. Keep consuming caffeine. Keep busy. Get things done. Be productive. Stay awake.

If I pause for a moment, I can hear my body crying out to me, telling me to fall asleep early tonight, or take a quick nap, or at least slow down. But the mind never rests. Even when you’re fast asleep, the mind keeps going, going, going. The mind never sleeps; it creates dreams… or nightmares. And that’s why I can’t fall asleep. Because I’m stuck in my mind.

And I keep looping it over and over again. Logically, I should be bothered by the distance. I should be upset and hurt about the distance. But it’s the closeness that breaks my heart. The distance is safe, because there’s nothing to lose. But the closeness means that you could lose everything… at any moment…

I wonder how I can know so many people, yet none of them know me back. I can read people like books, yet they look back at me like a foreign language. I try to explain to people who I am, and they don’t believe me. They say that I’m calm, that I’m sweet, that I’m breezy. I’m none of that.

Some people know me. My closest family and only a few very, very close friends know me. Everyone else just assumes, but they don’t know my intensity. They don’t know my focus. They don’t know my obsessiveness, my craziness, my passionate determinism. They don’t know that I’m a person of extremes. They don’t know that the word “moderation” is not in my vocabulary.

No, I can’t blame most people for misunderstanding me. I think I cover up on purpose, but it’s not because I’m being fake. It’s protection… I’m protecting you from getting scared… I’m protecting myself from the pain of being abandoned by someone who got scared… I don’t want to see you become afraid of me. There’s nothing to fear.

So I wonder, do you know me? If you really knew who I was, would it make you open up or run away?


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