You sit in an airport. Your flight is delayed. And you start to write. Because the only other alternative is people watching. And, I like people watching but to be honest, people are exhausting. I don’t mean that in an “I’m a hermit and would prefer to lived locked up in a cabin in the woods” kind of way. I’m not Kathy Bates in some Stephen King horror story — waiting in the woods, snowed in with an ax. It’s just that people just steal away with my energy. Part of it is because I will give to a fault. Once I decide I love you, I’m all in — heart, head, checkbook, what’s mine is yours (including my soul). I will give all I have until there is nothing left but a shell of my former self. Like a Fiona Apple song, I’m left broken, bruised and bleeding on the floor (metaphorically — no need to call authorities). And, it’s usually at that point I finally decide to get out. That point where there is nothing left to give. And I’m a Libra, so once I’m resigned, it’s done.

And it usually ends ugly. And part of me hates that it does because I’m not an ugly person. I don’t mean looks — it’s just that I’m probably as non-violent as they come. Some people can spit venomous rhetoric out at another without any thought or concern. I just believe that once you love someone, they show you their room full of spiders. And that means they have trusted you with their inner fears and the things that horrify them. So, when you argue or “have words” you should never push that person into the room full of spiders. So if you push me into the room full of spiders, you’re done. Point of no return. Over. Finito mosquito.

I used believe in the quote from the movie the Departed. Collin Sullivan says: “If we’re not gonna make it, it’s gotta be you that gets out, because I’m not capable. I’m Irish and I’ll deal with something being wrong for the rest of my life.” But truth be told, it’s always me that ends things. Always. I think I make it too easy for people to stay. And then I get fed up with the narcissistic nonsense. I get bored and restless and irritated at having to accept the person but the person not accept me. I’m the one in the relationship that somehow manages to fade into the shadows so that the other person can shine. And let’s face it, hiding your light gets exhausting, and dark, and very fucking lonely. And I know this sounds a bit like Scarlett Katie O’Hara but dammit — I refuse to be lonely in a relationship ever again.

*Scarlett was also Irish. We have a flare for the dramatic, mouths like sailors and the constitution of a bull ox.

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