I'm uncomfortable.
I'm uncomfortable with myself,
my body,
even sometimes my own personality.
Nonetheless, you encourage me that there is nothing to be afraid of,
and that I'm beautiful, it's all just a part of human nature you repeat.
I cower, and you question why anxiety is winning a battle so easy for you,
making me feel so small against the giant inside my head.
But how can one scold me for my anxiety for feeling so uncomfortable with touch, and the physical presence of someone else, when emotionally i barely know anything about you.
You're uncomfortable with the way you feel, what you feel,
and how you feel of the ones around you.
How can someone make such comments on me being uncomfortable when emotionally your battle is just as great.
How can i feel so obliged to win this battle when on your end you're doing nothing but throwing sticks?
I can't let go if you yourself continue to build your skyscraper of a wall to the sun and back,
only questioning I as though you are not guilty to the same crime.
And that is why this will never be, we will never be.
If I have to scratch into your soul and pull out what's most precious to you, then I don't want it, because it clearly does not belong to me.
I want to be given the most difficult, treasured pieces of you without asking, without hesitation.
To be given this just because you love me and want to share your entire being with me.
That,
that is when i will do the same.

For the meantime,
I feel like a puppet being used as just an object at play.
To satisfy your needs as if I am deserving of no such thing.
How can one be so consumed in their own desires they cannot tell that the person they hold so dearly is suffocating in their own toxic sea of love they allowed into their heart,
slowly filling their lungs till it is too late to scream for help.
Dear it is not that i do not love you with all my being,
it is that you do not.