Running With Scissors

“What are you doing? Turn back now,“ but I didn’t. I kept walking; this life while only temporary was a much-needed retreat. Frozen in time, home stands still, I will not be judged or questioned, my mind can rest and recoup. So, why did I feel guilty for taking a siesta? Was I running away from the problems hoping that when I returned all would be right?
“I shouldn’t feel this way,” he said as we pulled up to the terminal. There was nothing I could do or say to change the way he felt. Less than twenty-four hours ago we were so happy and it was starting to feel like old times, but then the insecurities and past mistakes crept back into the present and the truth fragmented. I was torn between following my heart, which for the first time in a long time told me to run back into his arms and the twenty something party girl who so desperately wanted to be one the popular girls for a few days.
I wished he would have come with me, would have trusted me, would have believed me, but I knew this might never happen again. The truth was he might never get over the pain and I had to finally accept that he might not be waiting for me when I returned. It wouldn’t matter how many pictures I took or souvenirs I bought, it would never be enough to justify my words.
Love is a motherfucker. Oh so easy to fall in and out of, but unconditional love is rare and must not be taken for granted. One day you will wake up and wish you hadn’t foolishly let go of the one person who would jump hoops to be with you.
Had we grown so far apart that the damage couldn’t be repaired? Were we running with scissors fearing the rock and chasing the paper?
Kate