Right on time. I’ve been expecting you.
I was talking to my eye twitch.
I’m starting to panic. I’m having massive anxiety, which is nothing new. Crushing my chest. Can’t breathe. Lost my breath on the drive home from work yesterday and couldn’t breathe in anymore. Have barely had anything to eat because my stomach is in knots.
I don’t stay over. I don’t stay over. I don’t know what else to say, but I don’t stay over. Call it another of my PostSecrets along with getting tattoo’s so that I will always remember who I once was, or that I despise being in people’s weddings. This secret? I don’t stay over.
I can feel it. The mental shutting down. The “I haven’t been wrapped up with anyone in so long that I don’t know how to do this” feeling. The “I really do like being alone” feeling. The “Am I going to mess this up on purpose feeling.” Panic. Sheer panic. More like terror.
When I panic, I’m like a caged rabid animal. A bull in a China Shop. I freak out, completely. And I must take to my bed. Trying to take deep breaths, but it’s not helping.
A few years ago, someone asked me why I never stayed over with him. It’s a question I couldn’t answer right away. But about a year after I was asked, and after he was gone from my life, I figured out the answer.
I don’t stay over because I don’t want to fall in love.