Autopilot

I am a mess of insecurity, fear, and I’ve never felt so completely overwhelmed in my entire existence here on the planet Earth.

I cried tonight, though I professed earlier that I didn’t want to, and I’m surprised I made it home without pulling over. The night & what happened was glorious, beautiful, and seemed to pop right out of my daydream, but the aftermath tore me to shreds. I am extremely afraid that you will wake up tomorrow (or perhaps as soon as my depart) and hate either me, yourself, or both of us for what has happened. I can’t bear to lose what I’ve found; I just can’t… thus the tears. I drove and I drove, all the way to Newburg, because I couldn’t stand the thought of going home and lying awake, wondering if the axe would fall or remain justly poised. It nearly breaks me to think that you might regret everything when you awaken tomorrow. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and honestly, I’m scared shitless to find out.

I gave into impulse today, and you let me. I gave you a whole hour to retreat, unknowingly for this purpose. I stepped out of my comfort zone tonight (which granted me much-needed praise) and took that risk, knowing I just broke through a moment that could change life forever…be that good or bad, I’m not quite sure yet. I’m not sure I want to find out. That feeling of being perched on the tip of a moment, knowing that I can’t get off the damned roller coaster until it’s run it’s course, was outrageously exhilarating. I want to have my snuggle-buddy, truly, and I don’t want this entire thing to backfire. I really don’t.

You’ll be gone in less than two weeks, and it WILL hurt. You know what, though? Now it will hurt regardless, and I’d rather have warm memories, at least, for the cold, lonely nights. Your feelings will ultimately determine if I crumble like an abandoned house or face the inevitable battle with strong will, integrity, and brute strength. I beg fate to have tonight melt into tomorrow with no hiccups inbetween, but I fear I ask for too much. I beg all that is good in the world to bask in what’s too-good-to-be-true for as long as I can. Please, God. Please.

I’m on autopilot now,
Amanda