Falling...

I did it. I fell.

I promised myself I wouldn’t, that I would just be, just enjoy, just go with it. Don’t fall, I whispered to my heart. Don’t do it. Just wait because we don’t know what this is yet. So wait… just wait…

But my heart is not patient. It is like a six-year-old child who just wants what she wants, everything else be damned. And yesterday morning, she grabbed her makeshift parachute and leapt off the cliff, screaming “whoo-hoo” all the way down.

And of course I fell. These past couple of weeks with the Filmmaker have been right out of a romantic comedy. Showing up unexpectedly with cupcakes, late night adventures 35 floors up with a full moon, wrapped in his arms. Showing up at my door at midnight, sweeping me up in his arms, so full of passion and desire that he takes my breath away. And he bought a nightlight for his bathroom so I wouldn’t be afraid of the dark.

And I was doing so well, just really enjoying him, embracing our time together, trying not to put any expectations on this, just letting it be whatever it is.

But something shifted yesterday morning.

He came over the night before, bottle of wine in hand, and we sat and talked for a long time, the first time we’ve been able to do that. Just sit. Just talk. Just be together without craziness going on around us. And it was lovely. And the rest of the night was just as easy, just as beautiful, filled with passion and desire. And wrapped up with each other.

And as he sat on my bed in the morning, getting ready to go home and face his day and let me face mine, something shifted. Usually, we’re both kind of rushing to tackle our day in the morning, at least when he’s here because I usually have a ridiculously early college class (four days a week, ridiculously early classes). So the morning is usually nice and polite and fine but definitely both of us getting ready for our day.

But he moved slowly yesterday. And I sat on the bed next to him and snuggled into him and he wrapped me up in his arms and just held me. And then he just looked at me.

And something shifted. And I heard that six-year-old child that holds my heart leap.

And I don’t know if it shifted for him. He’s a guy. You know how they are.

But for me, this is usually when it all goes terribly wrong. If only I could learn not to leap.

But it’s too late. I’m on the way down now, rocks looming, all pointy and jagged, waiting for me to fall all the way so they can tear me up when I reach the bottom.

And I know it’s just me.

Well, actually, it’s not just me.

It’s CL, who was one of the first I fell for in my new life. Who drew me in and pushed me to leap, only to run when I did. Who told me I was “too much”. Who posted terrible, awful, scathing things about me and who tore me apart because I never understood why. He just turned and left me to the rocks as I fell.

It’s CB, who I thought was something, who I thought was going to be something very, very special. Who saved me so many times in those early years of discovery and freedom. It’s you who saw me hold out my heart to you, you who almost took it, almost leapt with me, but then left me standing there as you faded away, without a word, without a sound. Just… gone. You, who still smiles when you see me and who probably still thinks we’re friends. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Big, fucking rocks tore me to pieces over you.

It’s the Poet, who promised me we’d always be friends, who was so much of an almost, despite his trying to deny it. The Poet who looked at me that way, who held me, heart pounding, and who has also vanished into the night. Who told me he’d never hurt me, he’d never leave, he’d always be my friend, my good friend.

You all leap with me and you’re all the ones I hear as I leap, making me sorry that I do. Because this leap means the beginning of the end. It means he’ll be gone soon because I’m “too much”, I get too close, I … I’m just always wrong. I’ve been taught that lesson well -- I’m just always wrong.

And the clowns are rejoicing as I fall because, suddenly, I can hear them. I can hear them mock me and torture me as I try to figure out what I’m doing. I popped up on Facebook tonight to say hi to him and the clowns belly-laughed, because they know I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I shouldn’t have but apparently the clowns think I shouldn’t have. Because they think he’ll find it invasive, he’ll suddenly be afraid of me, suddenly feel smothered, because that’s what I do. Drive him away. I’m good at that.

And the leap makes me stupid. It makes me become the person I hate being - wanting, needing, pining. Questioning, that’s the worst part. Asking all the things I’ve been avoiding asking, setting expectations that I’ve been avoiding setting. Wanting more than I can have right now.

And the clowns have started to pick at this, starting trying to find the seams and trying to unravel it and me. They want me to only see the bad, not see the good. They want me to build unbearable scenarios and they want me to twist everything out of true so I’ll be heartbroken long before that’s necessary.

And I hate that my history drags me to this place, drags me into the dark despite my efforts to stay in the light. I hate that my immediate place to go is into the black. I hate that I can’t just let this be something simple, something easy, that all the years of abuse make me want to figure out the end game and want me to protect myself.

And I hate that, right now, everything in my being just wants to end this and run. Because it’ll be easier if I can stop the leap midway down and not fall all the way. If I can just not let my heart go this time, if I can just hang on to it and not put it in his hands, then maybe I can survive this.

And I hate that instead of living in this moment and embracing the passion and desire and joy that he brings to me, that I’m trying to figure out how to fuck it up. Trying to figure out how to get away from it.

But what I really want to do is just fall. Just leave the corpses of those in the past behind as the air streaks past me, whistling in my ears as I close my eyes so I can’t see the rocks at the bottom. I want to just float on the wind and not think too much about how I’m going to land. I want to trust that he will be different, that I will reach out my hand to find him falling along beside me. I want to believe that he will continue to surprise me and that, instead of landing on the rocks below, we’ll get caught up on the updraft and find ourselves soaring over the ocean, finding a warm place to land where we can just stay for a moment, wrapped up in each other, finding our way without expectation. Just be, just love, just us.

So despite the fact that my heart is fighting me, I’m going to close my eyes and try to breathe and try to say goodbye to those who have left me behind, let go of that pain, let go of that fear. I’m going to listen to the wind and not think about what’s going to be. I’m going to picture his face in my mind, and feel his kiss on my lips, and hang on to that, for a moment, I could see him falling with me. And reach out, heart in hand, and hope he catches it.