Notes of a Crocodile

by Qiu Miaojin

She let me give myself over completely, then prevented me from falling madly in love with her by forcing me to love her in a rational, controlled way. She didn’t want the soul-baring embrace of intimacy. She wanted to admire me from afar, and it was enough for her to know that I’d always be there. That distance partly served to help her make sense of me. She was so impervious that she couldn’t tell how much I needed her. Even if she could tell, she’d never be able to give me what I needed. Instead, she’d drop hints about how little she had to give. To make matters worse, she’d sometimes give me the exact opposite of what I needed, so that there was no point in expressing my needs. She constantly had the upper hand. That was her way of protecting herself from me—by giving herself an out—and protecting me from even greater pain.