I'm Losing You

She tells me. She tells me about how, a couple of years ago, someone did terrible things to her, horrible things - things that make me shake with anger, things that have taken away her ability to see herself for the funny, intelligent, sexy woman that she is. And she tells me how everytime she tries to communicate with me, she feels like she's doing something wrong. She tells me that she thinks all she does is make me feel sad. She tells me that she feels uncomfortable because she's beginning to discover the type of woman that I like, and she thinks she can't be her. She tells me I need to find someone who deserves me, someone normal, more put together.

And I try to make her realize that she hasn't done anything wrong, that everytime I've thought about her I smile, that she is the type of woman that I like. I write to her that what she told me doesn't change anything, that my gut reaction is to hold her and try to make her feel better.

She says she thinks I'm great, and that she really likes hanging out with me. I love how when we hold hands she bursts into a wide, child-like grin. If I lose her because she thinks I'm a jerk, or she hates my music tastes, I can accept that. But if I lose her because she thinks I need someone better, because she thinks she's somehow unworthy, I still have to accept her decision, but it will be . . . well . . . I've been worthless at work these last few days. I've been breaking down at random times.

After e-mails and confusion, I realized what I had to do. I told her again that I still want to see her because she really is great, but that I'll let her have some space to think. I told her that whatever she decides, I hope that we could still remain friends, and that she could talk to me anytime. I told her I only want to be something supportive in her life.

So now I just wait.