My mother always said I was melodramatic.

I've always hated how much my emotions tend to get the better of me. When I feel something, I cant help but be passionate in that feeling, and that passion, which has been called admirable, well the passion has always been my downfall. The easiest solution seemed to be not to feel anything, but I've never been able to figure that one out, so I guess the next best thing was to act like I don't. I became adept at hiding my feelings from people, even when I felt my emotions were tearing me apart. I'd learned the hard way that people weren't to be trusted, and I wasn't keen for a refresher course. It's kind of funny how some things can impact your life, change your perspective.

I've spent years of my life building walls to keep anyone from becoming too close. Even now I find myself adding bricks daily, it's become such a habit I barely know I'm doing it. It was my theory that if I didnt allow anyone close enough to me, that I would be safe from my emotions. After all if something never begins, then it can never end. If I never loved, I could never have my heart broken, I would be invulnerable to pain. What I didn't count on was how easily my emotions managed to dart over the walls I'd built around them and attach themselves to others, and the more that happened the more terrified I became of people seeing the parts of me that I'd tried to hard to keep hidden.

You were a breath of fresh air. Someone new, confident and fun. You showed an interest in me that I wasn't used to, and though alarm bells were ringing in my head, I was interested in you too. Our interactions left me confused and intrigued, I was so used to using my sexuality to get my way that your defiance made me even more eager to get closer to you. Somehow in the excitement of the game I forgot to start building my walls, and then all of a sudden you were there, and I was vulnerable, and there was so much going on at once. I couldn't be sure if what I was feeling for you had any substance, or if I wanted a distraction from him, but my wounds were still so fresh, and I felt like I couldn't handle going through it again. I was scared of how close you'd become, so I did the only thing I knew how to do and threw words at you to hurt you. At the time I didn't know which were true and which weren't, but I needed distance, I longed for cold emotionlessness. Looking back, I like to think that I was simply using you, reveling in the distraction from everything else. It seems much less depressing to me than the idea that what I felt was real, and now it's over and it might have been the most real thing I would ever touch.

I remember walking home through the rain, thigh high boots full of water and you kissing me in the rain. That was the night I played the temptress, and we both lost, but it didn't matter because I was laying in your arms with our bodies pressed against each other, and in that brief moment I felt safe. It seems wrong that it's one of my favorite memories, with the way things are now, but I hate the way everything ended. I've wondered what would have happened if I'd chosen differently. At the time it hardly seemed to be a choice, having wanted him for so long there was no question about what I would do.

Even now, there's no question.

But I do miss you.