When he hurts me I push him away. I don’t want to be close, I don’t want to be his pretty little girl. He doesn’t deserve it. I don’t want him to have the luxury of swooning over my cheeky faces or hearing about my exciting day. I withhold.
I want to hurt him like he hurt me, but that isn’t possible. He’ll never know how it feels to be so vulnerable, so small. So easily capsized.
I build hasty walls trying to keep him at bay but I know that he’ll topple them when he puts his arms around me and tells me how sorry he is. I wish I was a better builder.
I want my coldness to move through him the way his carelessness moved through me. Destructive. Painful. Searing.
I make myself unlovable.
But the more I push him the harder he pulls me back.
Nobody has loved me forever, everyone just loves me “until…”
Until they see something they don’t like, until it’s inconvenient, until I have my own wants and needs, things they didn’t plan for.
I don’t believe in forever. Nothing gold can stay.
Daddy says he’ll show me what forever really means.