The Ones I Push Away...

Closeness starts to feel dangerous the moment it becomes real.

I can count those moments on my hand. Like it was yesterday, the first time I felt the difference of what was growing inside of me and how I felt exposed. They wanted to love me in a way that felt almost too pure, too honest, and all that ran through my mind was to turn and run away. Not slowly either. My instinct was to create distance because something in me didn’t believe it could be real.

I kept thinking it had to be temporary. I kept telling myself that something like that doesn’t last.

I was scared. My memory hadn’t let go of pain from the past. Distrust was already setting up camp long before that moment, so when they showed up offering something honest, I couldn’t accept it as love. It felt fake. It felt fleeting. My mind jumped straight in and told me they will never truly love the person they just see.

So, I tell myself to just walk away. Let loneliness win this battle.

I don’t run toward it. I kept pushing it away. Not in some dramatic way. Just small decisions that slowly build distance between two people. Holding back when I could have leaned in. Staying guarded when I could have been honest about what I was feeling.

At the time I told myself it was caution.

Now I know it was fear.

The strange thing about closeness is the second it becomes real, you’re exposed in a way that feels visceral. There’s no mask left to hide behind. No curated version of yourself you can keep presenting. The other person starts seeing the parts you usually keep quiet.

Your flaws. Your insecurities. The things you’re not proud of.

They start seeing you.

That’s the moment where something tightens in me.

Because when I see myself clearly in those moments, the person in the mirror isn’t someone I always love easily. I see the mistakes. I see all the cracks and flaws. The parts of me that have been left unfinished like some puzzle no one wants to finish.

All I hear next, over and over in my mind are very words I try to stop thinking about.

“How could anyone else love me if I don’t love me?”

So, I pull away.

Not because I don’t want closeness. I do. I want it more than I usually admit. That moment it goes from words to reality, it stops being a thought and becomes the very thing I fear could hurt me.

Then I face the cold hard reality that I tried to shield myself from something honest, in the worst way imaginable.

By pushing away the very person who was trying to stay.

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