We.

I feel the distance between us and it tears me apart. I remember how it used to be, the easy closeness I long to regain. I think of all the things I want to say to you, explain to you, wish that I could say to you, but don't know where to start. The mistakes I've made. Destruction I've caused. The power I hold in my hands, the potential to fix, cure, heal, wantonly disregarded throughout the course of an inexplicable mission of self-unfulfilment.

I cling to the oh-so-slightly uneasy truce we've arrived at. My flicker of hope reflected by you. It'll be OK, we're telling ourselves. I can reach you. Touch the depths of your soul without shock when I find what it contains. I try to open up myself to you. Dare you to remember how to love me. To still like me whatever it is that I am inside.

I wish you could know how much I need you. Love you. Miss you. The strength you impart to make me more than I am alone. How lost and confused I'm feeling inside. Scrabbling for answers. Desperate for resolution. Fearful of what lies ahead. My coldness a mask of self-preservation. Locking you out. Denial of the turbulence buried inside.