What Makes A Woman Unforgettable
by Marcus Ratnathicam Apr 27, 2014
I’m scared to lose her because she loves me better than I love myself.
I’m scared to go back to my Internal Bludgeon, that one lurking in the background on high alert for the slightest external sign that I’ve done something wrong, that I am too much. That I have showed people enough of who I am on my insides that they’ll pull back everything they ever gave me. I’m too young, I’m too childish, I’m too magical, I’m too naive. That my love is silly and irresponsible. If they ever saw those things they’d run.
No, not they run. They'd tell me to run.
Moment by moment she loved those spots too. She’d slow me down to ask me a question and I’d curse at her, I’d shame her for being irresponsible and not getting her work done. "Get your attention off of me and back to your responsibilities.” And she’d hold steady in the face of my own shame and fear and keep asking me, ‘Marcus, what happened?'
And every time I yielded I disproved my deepest fears that that scared feeling below my anger or frustration wasn’t so crippling after all. That part of me my Bludgeoner so vigilantly protect wouldn’t actually destroy everything I’d worked so hard to build, it wouldn’t suggest nor prove my fraudulence.
It didn’t diminish the portrait of who I am but instead, at least to her, it colored it.