“I run,” I emphasize. I know who I am, but she sees me in a different light that I can’t always make sense of. That scares me. I love how overwhelming it feels when she looks at me. But what if she only views me as this “human hero” because she doesn’t have all the pieces of me? As soon as I give more of my past, as soon as she realizes I am a cockroach, will she even love me the same?
