slow life

I feel the need to explain. I give power to that sentence, as if it's a revelation that should stick out and dictate my train of thought. If I don't have the right words or a proper explanation, I feel anxious. Afraid, even. Maybe the thought I'd least like to be true becomes the one that envelopes me. I'm afraid that if I can't solve this or that, she'll leave me. I'm afraid my insecurity stirs in her a realization that I am weak or immature. I envision a world in which she leaves me because of it. In her perceived superiority. My deeper fear: that she'd be right to. That I inhibit her growth, and the proper thing to do is take a step in a different direction. Away from me. Because I am stagnant, unmotivated, and afraid of the world. I know that I should face my fears, and she encourages me to. I tell her I will but when will I? I can't accept her love and care if I feel like I don't deserve it. I find myself putting her down because I am insecure. But she shows no signs of disappointment or judgment. I am honored but I do not thank her. I remain afraid that she'll come to this realization. So I evade. I evade what I don't want to discuss and I create problems where there are none. My insecurities rush back. My depression reigns and my anxiety commands. Her touch becomes a reminder of my ineptitude, and I feel alone. I don't know if I should ask for sympathy or empathy. I'd like it. And I wonder why my speech is so different from my writing. I feel conflicted. Am I digging a deeper hole or expressing vulnerability? I imagine her reading this. I imagine us laying together, and me receiving her unspoken care. The thought brings peace and joy. But the question arises: what am I doing right now? Am I being honest or crafting something carefully written to elicit a certain response? I think there's risk in writing this to someone significant. I think the risk feels absent because I know how she'll receive this. Positively, with open arms. What more can somebody ask for? I'd kill every demon inside of me to fall into those arms again. But I must remember to be mindful and present. Simple words easily spoken, but I've too easily fallen into the trap of needing dopamine hit after dopamine hit. Cuddling doesn't do the trick, sex must. Sex becomes a way to finish, not a way to connect. The wisdom of the journey becomes a vague ideal. And for me, that's important. To slow down. But I feel like I can't do it alone. And I don't want to do it alone. Live the slow life with me, please.