Too Close For Comfort

Close.

In proximity, in mind, in feelings;

Close.

It’s a terrifying thought; to let someone get close and to trust them not to treat you like shit. To let someone in and let them get to know the real you…it’s like something out of a horror novel.

Not to say I haven’t let people get close. I have; briefly.

But I’m too cynical.

Or I don’t open up enough.

Or I don’t communicate enough.

Believe me, I’ve heard all of the reviews.

“You know, you never tell me how you feel. I never know what’s going on in your head.”

I’m sorry; I thought I was the girl in the relationship.

Tease!” another cried.

I merely shrugged. How can you tease someone if you never gave an indication of wanting more? How is it possible if you never let them get close enough to know the little habits you have or the fears that haunt your every nightmare?

Closeness is a terrifying aspect of life.

To let someone into your innermost being; to allow them to feel the things you feel in the dark of the day, when everyone else is fast asleep. To let someone hear the thoughts you’d never willingly speak. It’s terrifying.

To be close to someone is like cliff-diving; there is a part of you that is completely exhilarated by such a thought and ready, but then there’s the part of you that is fearing the impact of the sharp rocks below and wants to curl into a corner in fetal position.

The latter is almost impossible to shut down.

So, to avoid feeling that distant pounding that you can hear in your head, that creeping feeling of something terrible occurring, you block people off and keep them at a safe distance. It’s like driving; there’s always a fear that you’ll crash, but sometimes you just have to drive.

While part of me wants to (or, in some cases, needs to), there’s still a part of me that’s afraid to be so in control of such a machine, with more than my own life at stake.

To be close is to be at risk.

To be close is to invite danger in for a cup of tea.

It’s to see the car coming barreling down the road, and still darting across.

It’s to dive into the deep end of the pool, like a fearless child who has yet to learn how to swim.

To build walls is to be safe.

To stack each brick one by one, to paint the walls, and hang pictures with nails.

From behind the walls, you can peak your head out of a door or a window, say hello to people, and then go back in without a problem.

No one will bat an eyelid.

No one will murmur a sound about it.

We are all hiding behind something; to expose another would be to expose yourself in a house of your own creation.

But then, there will be that one person who questions it; who ventures further than the others. This person does more than knocks at the door; they knock it down, sending it crashing into the room.

They attempt to get close.

Close enough to understand your thoughts.

Close enough to hear the words you’d never bothered to speak.

Close enough to question your jaded spirit.

To your very core, they will terrify you.

They will bring out your fear of being close.

Close enough to feel your hands shake.

Close enough to see your eyes widen and the tears well.

Close enough to see the ache to run in the opposite direction.

Close.

In proximity, in mind, in feelings;

Close.

*NOTE: This is something I wrote almost two weeks ago and actually gave me the idea to start the blog. I’ve already addressed my trust issues, and, as stated, I’m working on them. But this is a glimpse at my thought process in reference to the subject.

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