Toxicity Level - Code Red

I worked late tonight. I almost called you on my way home. I wanted to tell you about the amazing sunset I witnessed over the bridge. Maybe it's all the rain we've had but I don't remember the last time I saw the this vibrant of a red bleed into the Ocean. But I didn't. I didn't call. Suddenly, I've got no one to call.

You would've answered the phone. You would've asked how my evening went. You always did. You would've wowed over my trivial recount of the natural occurrence of a sunset and the oddities of customers served that evening. As always, you would've been up waiting for me to get home. But I didn't call. I could not call.

So instead, as I drove toward the minute apartment that is my current abode, I channeled my energy in fighting every urge to drive "home" . With fondness I recalled your half sleepy face watching TV. Dirty pots in the sink. A half eaten dinner on your plate. Some cheesy show on the screen. I wanted to come home. Even if just to drive by to see if your car was in the driveway. If the light from the TV screen reflected out the windows into the street. Just to see what you were doing. To tell you about the horribly dressed uber-rich participants of my evening at work. But I couldn't. Coming home would mean staying forever and I cannot make that promise. So, with uncontrollable sobs and tears streaming down my face I drove the opposite way wondering what kind of a person passes up the opportunity to be with someone who has no other desire in life but to be with you? A mentally ill one, obviously.

So tonight as I sit alone in my little place furnished with nothing more than a futon, a coffee table that houses my college TV, and a mattress/ box spring combo I feel compelled to make a confession to an audience that doesn't know me, is sometimes willing to listen and is always impartial.

Hello, my name is Ed.
I am 35 years old.
I am a commitment-phobe.

My last relationship lasted about eight years.
My previous relationship fell apart after ten.
The last time I offended and let it all go to shit was two weeks ago.

If you love me, I am toxic.
I should come with a warning sign.
I run from anything that is good for me.
I feel suffocated by those who care for me.
I am cursed by the uncontrollable urge to escape those who genuinely and unconditionally adore me.
My irresponsible behavior irreparably breaks hearts.
Hurting others pains me more than I can explain, but I don't know how to stop.
I am a free spirit, yet I do not want to be alone.
You pull, I run.

If you don't love me, I am bi-polar.
I am attracted by everything that is negative.
I am magnetized by what pushes me away.
I chase you if you don't really want me.
I waste my time and energy wondering why you don't feel for me the way I do.
I am the fall back-gal, the rebound pal.
I am the constant second choice striving to be the number one.
I hurt because you don't love me the way I want you to.
You push, I pull.

I don't know if there is a pill or a cure. I hope to God there is.
I think I want a balanced relationship. One I can shamelessly show the world that I have a heart.
A careless kind of love. A lovy-dovy, mushy-wushy, googly eyed kind.
I don't want to pretend I don't care anymore. I don't want to doubt how he feels.
I demand to shamelessly be the center of someone's existence and them mine.
I long it to be effortless.
I want to miss someone when they are gone, even if for five minutes. I want for that feeling to be mutual.
I aspire to complete and be completed.
In a crowd of a thousand, we are the only two people there.

I'm tired of running....I'm sick of being toxic.

Hello, my name is Ed.
I am 35 years old.
I am a commitment-phobe.
You pull, I run.
You push, I pull.
I caution that prolonged exposure to me is likely to cause severe damage. I strongly suggest one seek cover.