Reluctantly I allowed myself to trust you and eventually to feel love for you but I was always looking for signs of your departure.
Nobody had ever committed themselves to me the way you did and, although I had been in love before and could feel myself lingering at the door of maybes, I was scared. More scared of myself than you. What if you helped me get better? I was scared of being better. I hadn’t been well since I was six years old and it felt like all I knew – all I was good at.

I was scared of deeper things, things buried, things that knew what they wanted. Things that knew what they were entitled to.

And, most of all, I was scared that you would leave me.

But you kept coming back, again and again, and each time it allowed me to uncover more of myself. Sometimes I wouldn’t see you for a while then I would turn around and you would be there with an intensity that confirmed that I was yours and you were mine.