in the confidence of strangers

I don’t want to hurt you.

That’s why this isn’t working.

"Not to hurt does not mean heal."

I wrote those words last year.

I can say I don’t want to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean I want to help you. I don’t want to be your second chance. I don’t want to be your redemption. I don’t want to be your irony. Your object lesson.

I wish there was a way to tell you this without seeming intentionally cruel, because I don’t want to hurt you.

You say you want to know me. You want to take my time, have dinner with me, maybe deign to see a movie.

And I’ve asked myself what I should feel. Anger? Sadness? A wavery desire for a relationship that might become?

The truth is, I haven’t missed you. Except on rare occasions when our paths have touched, I haven’t thought about you at all.

But now you say you want to know me. And that desire makes my words, thoughts, and feelings seem intentionally cruel. Because my life is a whirlwind of thoughts, worries, and concerns and I don’t want to add you to them.

And so I feel anger. I don’t want to make you a priority in my life. You haven’t made me a priority in yours. Now you say you want to, but in the same breath, you say you want to be selfish, that spending the day with me is selfishness for you. You say to me, "today is your day", but the fact is, if today was my day, I’d have spent it at home, watching Japanese dramas curled up with my cat. If today was my day, I’d be out drinking and partying with my friends, instead of spending an awkward afternoon in a coffee bar with you.

Today is not my day. Today is your day. I accepted that when I made the agreement. I just wish I knew why.

And I feel sadness.

Because there are so many others who deserve a day of my time, people who have been there for me, who have fed me, clothed me, changed my diapers and dried my tears, but instead of spending this day with them, I’m spending it with you.

And I don’t want to hurt you.

Because you haven’t hurt me. Because a part of me says you’re doing the best you can. Because I’m not the kind to burn bridges. Because I can’t claim to see into your soul and know what you are truly feeling. I don’t know you. Half of the time, I don’t even know myself.

I ask myself what I want. I answer myself, I don’t know. I’m not sure. Uncertain. I feel like this should be more important to me. That I should feel more. That I should care more. But I don’t.

And I don’t want to hurt you.

The opposite of love is indifference. You haven’t earned my indifference. Not entirely. But there’s an infinite rainbow of emotion between love and indifference. And I am somewhere in orange. Or green. Or yellow. Or red.

Somewhere between. Which is the story of my life right now. I’m skating in limbo. And sometimes I slip, fall down on my back, and sore and bruised, I stare up at the stars.