I Know There Are Infinite Number of Places to Begin

You were clingy and needy, and I had enough

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons

There are an infinite number of places to begin any outcome. I know it wasn’t that simple. I know all the reasons in intimate, serrated detail. I can stack them up in a neat pile and stare at them until they’re lost and found all over again or whatever I think I was looking for with you.

For me, it all goes back to that friendship, the rusty hinge between before and after. And I think it’s pretty clear that it would have surfaced eventually.

At first, it may have seemed like you were overenthusiastic and eager to get closer as often as possible. At first, I basked in your flattery and attention.

At first, your clinginess felt so right, yet so wrong. You stuck to me like a parasite Leeching into my soul—a stronghold. Your spider’s web had me ensnared. And when I tried to leave, you yanked me back.

I wanted to be there for you but couldn’t. I couldn’t fill every void, fulfill every need, or be your everything.

But when you stopped accepting no as an answer when I subtly hinted that I needed some space, that’s when your true clinginess appeared. It felt like I was sitting on a bomb, counting down, waiting to explode.

I wanted to lie to you and come up with excuses. But the truth is much easier to remember because I have to keep track of the tales I tell when I lie.

I needed to tell you that my work was the most important thing in my life. It had my interest, my loyalty, my triumphs, and my disasters. But your hovering in the background, filled with expectations, brought stomach acid bubbling up into my throat. Your needs gnawed at you, driving you to chase after me even harder in order to quell its fury.

I had internalized a desire that was not my own. I was not the gatekeeper of your emotional isolation. It registered in the primitive areas of your brain — the amygdala — as a life-and-death situation.

Like a puppet hanging by her strings, I was tangled in the binds of your wants. Your body gives off thousands of signals. You bellowed a rank of odor overlaid with the pungency of insisting stench. And that miserable, ash-gray feeling of petition. Within your desires, order and chaos were inseparably bound to one another.

You said friendship needs to be rekindled and flamed. But your attachment guilted me into spending more time with you. When I continued to say no and stopped returning your calls, the air between us felt charged like a thunderstorm on the horizon.

And finally, finally, you understood. And then we canceled each other.