Fighting Fantasy

· Grief

I’m scared to see you tomorrow. I feel like I need to hide myself in the fetal position. Because I’m scared of me. Scared that when I look at you across the room that all I’ll want to do is run into your arms. You are supposed to be the one to wrap your arms around me and tell me we can get through this. I want to be the one to hold you and tell you you are worth fighting for. But so am I. And I want you to fight yourself alone. I want you to fight to be safe for me. I need to fight my desire for things to hurt less, to feel safe in your arms, to live in a fantasy.