Paralysis

The transitions were easier because of you: the breakup, the move, the new job, the new place. Then I lost the job and the place, I made plans. I wanted to road trip, I wanted to fly, I wanted to see the world. 

I made a playlist that I listened to as I packed my desk, my apartment. Every track made me feel alive with the possibility. My life was wide open. I could be anyone, anywhere. 

Two weeks before my flight. One week before my flight. My body buzzed with excitement and anxiety. We were going to stand face to face and I would look into your eyes. Finally.

I woke up to an email. Long paragraphs. Lots of them. On any other day, I would dive into your beautiful language painting your life for me.

You’re dating someone, you told me. It’s getting serious. Part of you would love to meet, but you knew it wouldn’t be that simple.

I never had a chance to ask, but did you picture the same scene I did? Did you feel, even in your imagination, the electricity that would spark between us each time our eyes met?

I think you did. I think that’s why you were scared.

You asked me to delete your contact information. You told me you couldn’t do this anymore. But I already had my ticket, so I had to go.

Instead of meeting you, I traveled to the desert so I could forget you. A song from my soundtrack played in my head on constant repeat. I thought about you more than I didn't. I felt more alone than I ever had before. You once made all of these changes easier on me, but this time I would have to do it alone.

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