We may sleep together, but my dreams are my own. That’s always been my problem. I shut people out. I only let them see me from certain angles, in certain lighting, at certain moments. My mother says it’s because I am independent. My therapist says it’s my defense mechanism. My ex says it’s why we broke up. My friends say they love me anyway. I say it’s because I feel safest in half measures. I’ll love you—but not completely. I’ll hold your hand—but won’t interlace our fingers. I’ll take pictures—but won’t tag you. I’ll miss you—but never enough to ever question leaving.
