Precariously prancing

He has me less than sure footed. Somehow, I get knocked off balance and overcorrect myself. When I need to be playful, I end up defensive. My attempt at trying not to sound vulnerable and dependent wounds with the kind of insult I couldn’t even dream of hurling in that direction. How could he think he was anything less? The person I want to hear from most. Then, when I hear from him, I can’t wait to hear from him again. I can’t wait to hear his voice, his laugh.

Trying to explain that I don’t need it made me sound like I don’t even want it. And I do, desperately.

I’m afraid I’m not as good as I used to be. I have forgotten how hard it is to want this badly. To deal with the consequences of my desire and my compulsive nature and my preference for playing it low key.