terrified.

You know, I'm not afraid of living alone. There's something comfortable with the idea that the only person that I'll ever have to answer to on this earth is me. It's familiar and comforting to imagine the possibility of knowing that wherever I go, whatever I do, there will never be anybody but myself to call softly to me, whispering "hello... that's not right. Turn around." Nothing to worry about, and no one to keep me from taking a swim hazardously in the deep end when even the depths of this ocean called life isn't enough.

Like I said, I'm not afraid of being alone. No, what I'm afraid of is being with another. There's something utterly and completely terrifying about having someone else look into your soul saying "hey, I know you." To give part of myself away without knowing how it will be handled--this is what does, and always has, given me this sick sort of feeling in my stomach. When I look at couples around me, they mesh so well together. They know who the other is, what they stand for and believe in, and what they don't. The very thought of allowing someone to become so close to me that we're one is so foreign to me. It's so completely other than my self-absorbed life.

Maybe that's why I liked you so much. In my feelings for you, there was no risk. If you did have feelings for me, I know that you would never admitted it. I'm not who you're looking for. As friends, we could have those want-to-be intellectual discussions that ignore what was really haunting us. We were mad. When we talked about our theological questions, we both know that what we really meant to talk about was our lack of faith. Neither one of us would admit it, though. We danced around Truth to the rhythm of theology. That's why I loved you and hated you at the same time. My heart would scream "if only!" and wait for the day when you would admit that we may be more than simply friends, but the rest of me dreaded that day that never came. Because of that, you were a safe friend to have. I could, and still can, hide myself when I talk to you. Around you, I can live this lie and yet be more wholly myself at the same time.

No, I'm not afraid of living alone. I'm terrified of living in love.