Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Behind Enemy Lines

You Won't Look At Me. And It's Pissing Me Off

Listen to a Southern-Cut-7987 Reading

You won’t look at me. 

And it’s fucking pissing me off.

You’ve been distant all day. Not talking. Not moving. Like your goddamned soul somehow slipped from your body while no one was watching.

But I’m watching. And I’m fucking done with it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I have to know. You need to answer me. But you don’t. You just shrug. Just this half-assed, mindless lift of your shoulders. That’s not a fucking answer! “Are you mad at me or something?” I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, but damned if you’re not making me feel like I have.

“It’s not you.” Your voice is dim. Dull. A pale imitation of you. “It’s nothing.”

Clearly, the fuck it’s not! “If you’re angry, I’d rather just discuss it. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken.” We’ve talked about this before. You know it drives me crazy. So goddamn stop.

You make this weird sound. So small I almost didn’t hear it. 

“Hey,” I say, lifting your chin even as you pointedly avoid my gaze, “are— Are you crying?” Fuck. I can see wetness gathering at the corners of your eyes, like dew weighing down your lashes. “Hey, come here.” I gather you close to me, burying your face in my neck. I hold you there. Tight. Shielding you as I feel your small body practically vibrate with tensely gripped emotions. “It’s okay. You can cry, sweetheart.” Your head shakes slightly, just a barely noticeable, stilted shift against my shoulder, like you’re afraid the tiniest wrong movement will shatter your fiercely held control. 

Fuck this. I pull you onto my lap as I sit down in a chair, wrapping you fully around myself, until no part of you isn’t touching a part of me. “You can let it out, baby. It’s all right. I’ve got you; I won’t let you go.”

It starts as just a hiccup. A rough, choked swallow. Right before your stiff body collapses boneslessly against mine as sobs pour out of you and into my shirt. It breaks me. Cooing at you in a way I fucking pray you find comforting, I rock you soothingly, whispering God-only-knows-what in a desperate attempt to fix what feels so broken. I hold you through it, do my best to hold you together as you fall apart in my arms. 

It’s not until your tears quiet and your body lays limp against mine that I finally feel the ache in my chest relax. “Feel better?” I ask softly into your ear. I smile this time as you give the briefest nod into the crook of my neck. “Good.” I rub your back. “Can you give me a smile?” I feel your wet lips wobble weakly against my skin. I pat you gently. “That’s okay. Don’t force it; it’ll come.” And it will. You will feel joy again. I’ll make sure of it.

I let you pull yourself up as you furiously wipe the tears from your face like evidence to a crime. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, your cheeks flushing a shameful pink, “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

I reach up and softly brush my thumb against the moisture still threatening to fall. “You didn’t dump anything on me,” I tell you firmly. “You let me share the burden. I’m glad.” It’d been too much for you to carry on your own; of course, I want to help you lift it. That’s what I’m here for. “You know, as much as I love your smile, and as strange as it may sound, I think I’d rather see your tears than have you shut down like that.” Paralyzed by your pain. “It scared me. Not knowing what was happening in here,” I say as I touch your temple. You’re usually all smiles and sunshine; to have that all replaced by… nothing. It was terrifying. Like a frigid chill racking my soul.

Your gaze drifts away from mine again in a quiet evasion. “Sometimes it feels safer behind the walls.” 

Yeah, I understand that. They’re the emotional barricade you bury yourself in, when nothing outside it feels right anymore. But, having more than my own share of experiences behind the enemy lines that can be my own mind at times, I wonder how safe it truly is inside those carefully constructed walls though. “I know.” They feel like protection, a barrier between the tenderest parts of you and the world that can’t be trusted with them. “But you don’t need them with me, right?” You never will; I will fucking see to it. I can be stronger than your walls. For you, I will be. I grip your chin and hold it until you look at me again. I need you to hear me when I say this. “When you’re with me, all you need is you.” You are enough. More than.


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