Places We Fear To Go

He thought about writing her a letter in which he would tell her his thoughts, no holds barred.

He’d tell her he never stopped loving her and say he believed she never stopped loving him.

It would say he thought fear had held them back from moving forward the way they had always wanted to and would be so eloquently crafted he knew she would take his hand and take the chance he never had.

“You just want to bang me. You’re a guy. You can put it anywhere and all you want is to get my pants off of me or have me drop to my knees.”

Those weren’t words he had to imagine because she had said them to him before and he had always disputed them, had pushed back.

Had told her she was an idiot if she believed he just wanted to have her for her body.

“I love and have always loved you for your heart. I love the smile you give me that no one else gets and how you make me remember what it is like to truly live.

I love the look in your eyes when we are in our world and knowing that no one else can take you there just as no one else takes me.”

He could have kept going down the path but it was easier to let anger wash over him and help him avoid being taken to the places we fear to go.

In his heart he was convinced she felt the same ache and desire for connection he did.

He was certain if they were alone and he pushed her against the wall she would look at him with fire in her eyes and use words that would scald his ears. She would call him names and tell him how awful and disturbed he was.

It would hurt to hear it as it always did when she turned her wrath upon him. He would never understand how he could ignore the barbs from everyone else and not care what they think.

She was different and he knew it. Always the response pierced his heart and always it hurt, but he didn’t always say so or show it. Maybe it was ego or maybe it was fear.

Maybe it was because he hated being vulnerable but remembered once upon a time she had made it ok for him to be so and he missed feeling the embrace of her smile and the safe space.

Sometimes he’d look in the mirror and ask the reflection how it felt to know he was fucked.

It was never as simple as saying love the one you’re with.

So anger was where you went to find succor and safety. If you couldn’t be in the secret world it was easier to be angry and to pick upon the things the other did that pissed you off.

Find and focus upon their shortcomings and convince yourself that those were reason enough not to try to visit the places we fear so that you didn’t have to face possible rejection.

Or if that didn’t work do something to intentionally piss the other off so they would respond in a way that helped you find a reason to become angry.

But sometimes he thought it didn’t matter what they said or did because some stories aren’t done until they are finished.

Because you could send her a crude note and remind her of things you had done and ask for the same special treatment because you figured she would be offended by your words.

Except the thing was you knew that she could be just as crude as you and that sometimes she appreciated such a thing. That as much as she loved being romanced she wanted to just be taken and told what to do.

And then you’d realize your head was spinning because you had talked yourself into doing something and then out of it because the reasons why it made sense didn’t really work.

Up was down and inside was out and fear was master.

Fear that she would say no and fear that she would say yes.

And then your reflection would taunt you with:

“you really are fucked. If you said the right thing she would respond as you wish but you’ll never figure it out and thus you’ll never get closure. Never know if you were right or find out that you were wrong but take solace in knowing what you needed to know.”

“Go fuck yourself” would fly from your lips with enough venom and irritation to kill a legion and you’d go to the gym.

Everything was twice as hard as it needed to be and that was frustrating, but somewhere in the echoes of your mind you’d feel a soft touch and hear a soft voice and the anger would drain.

You never tried to find the source or figure out whose voice it was because it was enough to know that this moment would pass and eventually you’d find that place and inner peace again.

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