When You Realize You're Better at Leaving than Staying
It's late. You don't know what time it is. You don't wear a watch and your phone is in your bag and your bag is by the door. This has become a ritual for you. When you spend nights like this, in another bed, with another person. You set up your exit while you enter. You are good at this now. You are good at leaving.
No, you're great at it.
You thought you really liked this one, you really did. You believed in it as it was happening but something stirred inside of you as you slept. A ball of guilt and pain and, if you can believe it, emptiness. Whatever energy you had during the act was sucked out of you. No, not because of the physicality of what you two were doing. But because you felt someone getting close to you. You felt yourself getting close to someone else.
And this scared you. It scared the shit out of you.
You can't process your feelings. You never had the means. You feel in songs and movies and television shows. You allow other people and their art to define how you are feeling. So, like always, a song started to play in your head:
"I know you've no concern and neither do I so let's find out where it leads us tonight. Don't need a reason. No need to ask why. Two ships in the night with distress signals hoisted up high."
And this is how you felt as the night began. You worked through the hours in three-and-a-half minutes. Your eyes were still closed but you smiled to yourself. You felt okay, for a minute, then the second half of the song started and this is when you started feeling that undeniable fear of letting someone in.
"We are identical, we both want the same thing. But we can't explain it to each other, there is no love for the other. I'm not sure where you want me to be. I'm here on your front porch. Face pressed to your screen and in a matter of time you'll see this quite clearly. That me on your front porch, it's a new beginning."
And then you feel it. The song is done and so are you. Another song starts, your internal playlist knows exactly what you need. I know exactly what you need. You listen to this song, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling and looking at the patterns in the paint on her walls.
Her arm is around you. It is, look and feel and touch it, or don't. I'll take care of everything. I make you move slowly and quietly. You watch your body move without thought or purpose because I am in control now. You slide off the bed, feeling empty and soulless. You are a ninja, you are slick and suave, she will think you were a dream. I help you put your pants on quietly and you eye your bag by the door. Here, this is the lyric you need:
"I sleep with my passport. One eye on the back door. So I can always run, I can get up, shower, and in half an hour I'll be gone. And come morning, I am disappeared. Just an imprint on the bed sheets..."
You stare at her, sleeping in bed. The moonlight slips in through the shades and she looks beautiful. You are sober and you still think she's beautiful. You want to smile, you want to brush the hair out of her face, and you want to call her tomorrow (you don't, you never do).
You pick up your bag and stand in the doorway for a minute. You hear her voice. She asked you where you were going. You pretend you couldn't hear her. Actually, you couldn't.
You were too busy listening to me, reminding you that you'll never let yourself have the things you really want.