avoidantly attached

this is hardcore yap, also its been a while, hi guys

when you bring me closeness

my body recoils,

your eyes are too kind

when it’s just you and me,

and the room feels too still.

i begin to itch

like i’m wearing the wrong skin.

i sweat and i'm nauseous,

from the quiet terror of being seen.

people keep saying push through it.

they say maybe you’re the problem.

i say maybe i am.

maybe i just want to want

but i’m just psyching myself out of love.

you give me the affection i begged for,

and i flinch.

i flinch like it’s a blow.

i turn away.

you give me gentleness

and i wear it like a thorn.

i wish i could explain this in ways

that don’t make me sound cruel.

but i fear letting you in

and watching you ruin me

like a wolf shaking a lamb in its mouth

until the scream dies in its throat.

it makes me ashamed,

this fear of love.

this isn’t a fear of you.

but i fear your fondness of me,

and i fear you don't know me enough.

it’s the fear of needing anything.

of dependency, and vulnerability.

of believing, even for a second,

that someone might stay longer than i thought they would.

i want to be fixed so i can love someone�"

but without the fear of losing.

without the preconceived fear

to grieve you when you're in my arms.

i’m looking for an excuse to leave.

and it’s louder than logic.

louder than feeling.

my stomach drowns out my heart.

i’ve always felt like this.

i was born with a suitcase in my hands.

never really here.

never really staying.

but sometimes i wish i could come home.

i wish i could sit still.

i wish i was rich in peace�"

rich enough to let someone in,

to let them open the door

and not mistake it for a trap.

i’ve left everyone i’ve ever almost had.

not because they deserved it.

but because i didn’t know

how to sit still and be chosen.

it shouldn’t feel like war to love.

but i deepen the distance,

deepen the wound.

and maybe one day i’ll write you a letter.

i want to love without the dread

without already grieving you while you’re still in my arms.

i want a kind of love

that doesn’t turn my stomach.

a kind that doesn’t taste

like guilt swallowed whole.

i don’t think i’m unlovable.

i’m just nothing special.

and yet�"

i could pick you in a crowd,

and i don't look at every passing stranger with an apple in my eye,

so why can’t i believe i could be different for someone?

some days, i want to leave you.

other days, i want to stay forever.

some days the devil in my mind is whispering that solitude is safer.

i’ll say i need to be alone.

then i’ll crawl back, starving,

for the very thing i threw away.

you offered love

and i turned my nose up at it,

like it wasn’t the thing i’ve been dying for this whole time.

if i leave�"don’t wait.

the lobby will stay empty,

and you won’t hear me walking down the hall to come see you.

but if i do come back�"

do not open the door.

and do not forgive me.

you are the attachment,

and i am the avoidant.

i want to love someone, just to prove to myself that i can.

but i can’t love just anyone.

so i wait.

and convince myself that i will find ‘the one’.

and lie about being ready to change next time.

do i want too much?

my leaving was never something beautiful.

nor was it an act of grace and mercy.

it’s grief.

it’s self-sabotage

with a hint of longing.

like stealing something you don’t even want

and hiding it anyway, just to feel the thrill.

maybe if i say this out loud,

it will stop being a puzzle.

maybe it’s not as deep as i realise

and knowing someone raw isn’t as horrific as i picture it to be.

but still�"

i hold out hope like a bad habit.

not that i’ll know when he comes,

but i pray that i won’t ruin it if he does.

not that i’ll stay,

but maybe i’ll hesitate

before i leave.

i’m always halfway out the door,

pretending i’m just stretching my legs.

but really it’s just an easy exit.

i rehearse my escapes like prayers,

like maybe if i leave enough times,

i’ll believe i was never meant to stay.

i get nervous when the silence feels safe.

i call it logic

but it’s just fear dressed to the nines.