You're holding back everything inside you...

"You can't tell him everything. Instead you tell the deepest parts of what is on your mind to a blog.

"That's the problem."

Reading that comment from Hope sent my stomach plummeting into that pit of the things I block from myself and spend days, weeks, months, years trying to shift the rubble to get at the structures beneath.

Though it has been an hour since I read that, the sick, anxious feeling remains.

For the knowledge has been given to me and I have to act, because that's who I am. I can never let things lie and gloss over, not like that. The guilt over the knowledge grows, the anger at the self for not having the courage for dealing directly with the problem, until finally I move because the internal roilings are too much to bear.

GV8 does not disclose, and the one time I did open up to him, when we were on an emotional-outs and discussing that situation, it went poorly.

He apologized later, but his rejection of my fears, concerns, and self-doubts lingered.

I feel that if I open to him again, if I let him see all of the anxiety and doubt in me, he will once more reject me. It makes me feel like a child.

But, with our age gap, that's not overly surprising.

I am a child in relation to him.

He doesn't like weakness, he dislikes women with self-esteem issues. Personally, I think 99.9% of women have self-esteem issues, but that's me.

I just remember coming back to my room, leaning back in my oversized office chair, phone pressed to my ear, barbeque going on downstairs that I could not get involved with on more than a surface level because of the rollercoaster GV8 was putting my emotions through. I was tired, I was stressed, I was beyond anxious, as we had to "schedule" this talk around his work, so I knew it was coming and it built up into a beast stomping around my brain.

I do not remember what he said that unleashed my torrent. Something about pick-up, probably. Something about how people that study the art of seduction, that enjoy picking up others, have self-esteem issues and are just trying to validate themselves and are acting false. Something something something. I don't remember.

I know I wrote a blog on it some months ago.

And then I just unloaded my thoughts on him. The fears, how I view myself within the social spectrum, my distaste with my body, the damage that has been done, the overarching self-doubt that spreads itself through my being, the enjoyment I take in one-night stands because you can make your single-serving partner whoever you want them to be.

You can be with someone who truly understands you.

And you can maintain this illusion as long as you don't spend more time with them than that night.

Because the rush of meeting someone new, someone you click with, is better than the reality of dealing with yet another failed connection that is revealed with time.

He told me I was sick.

I suppose, in a way, in this way, I am sick.

I've come to that point where I know, for the most part, what I am doing, my motivations behind my behaviors, and I engage in them anyway.

I'm not stopping those behaviors.

Just refining them and making them more selective.

Because no harm is being done. It's living in a temporary fantasy, one that you can carry with you, glowing, for months, sometimes years.

Because no person can truly understand another person, and understanding is what I seek. That there is no bridge between you and another. Soul harmony.

He called me sick and it wounded me.

And even though he apologized for it later, that wound did not heal.

I just let time hide it from me, waves drawing it into the sea of my subconscious.

That undertow protects us from ourselves while, at the same time, tainting us and our interactions with others.

So here I am.

Frightened, terrified that when I talk to him about this, he'll wound me once more. That my instinctive knowledge that it's so very likely I will not be able to move past this without some sort of miracle, that I have started binding myself to a man who will not want these parts of me.

Who will create more of these parts, these fears, rejections, withdrawals, and continued knowledge that I am quite alone.

Talking to a tiny bit of space in a vast internet because I cannot face that I have no one to talk to in life, because there are pieces of me I am unwilling to reveal to even my closest friends.

I've become what I've preached for so long against: another person creating false relationships with others because they cannot deal with the thought of true rejection.

Good job.