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“Love is only a word, until someone arrives to give it meaning.” ~ Paolo Coelho
I only ask one thing—please don’t fall in love with me.
Please don’t fall in love with the way I dance across your mind in the dark of the early morning hours, keeping the reality of me alive within your tangled memories.
And please don’t sit and remember the way that I smile only for you—for my eyes light up, and you are mesmerized at the effect you have on me.
I don’t want you to fall into love with me.
Because I am scared—and this is a way for me to protect my heart right now.
I don’t want to you to fall in love with the way I am always so understanding of whatever it is you are going through or need to experience.
I don’t want you to miss the jokes that I tell you in the middle of the day and I don’t want you to lay in bed remembering the conversations we have late at night while the rest of the world is asleep.
I simply don’t want you to fall in love with me.
Because doubts have covered my heart in ebony silk and maybe loving really does mean eventually leaving.
Maybe some of us are simply meant to be unloved, because we burn too hot for anyone to grasp ahold of.
Maybe I just want to live in this place right now where love doesn’t exist, because it is easier than living in the confusion of indecision.
I don’t want you to fall in love with my laughter or the way that I love to trace your lips with my fingertips.
I don’t even want you to fall in love with the handwritten letters I have sent you, nor the way that I make you burn with an unimagined passion.
It’s easier to beg you to not love me—so that if it comes to light that you don’t, there won’t be any surprises.
For I’ve already begun expecting your departure and baby—it’s breaking my heart.
From our very first meeting, when you brought a letter I had written to you worlds ago, you cracked me open—and as cliché as it sounds, and as much as I never really expected or wanted to feel like this—I don’t know how to be myself without you in my life.
As much as I hate saying it, in my heart, I know it’s the truth.
So, please don’t fall in love with me—not even a little bit, not even for a minute.
I don’t want you to fall in love with the way we are each other’s best friend.
And please don’t love how we can say anything and everything to one another—and somehow seem to understand even the spaces between the words.
Whatever you do, don’t fall in love with me because I am always here for you with a gentle smile, an understanding heart and a strong drink to cure whatever ails you.
Maybe if I say it enough—if I beg you to not love me, then maybe it won’t sting so much if you say that you fell in love with another.
Maybe if I convince myself it’s already the truth, then if the moment comes that you have to erase me from your life, and try to dig me out of that space in your heart that I have lived for so long, it won’t be a surprise.
Because, I am simply asking you please not to fall in love with me.
Don’t miss the way that my old torn t-shirt always slides off my shoulder when we are talking, exposing the rise of my breast—and please don’t think of me every time you see 11:11.
Although you know I will be thinking of you.
Please don’t fall in love with me, because I can’t be only halfway with you.
I can’t do pieces and parts when this time I know that I want the whole damn thing.
I understand that you haven’t said no or good-bye, but I am scared that it is only a matter of time.
And usually I will hide this—I plaster a smile on my face, and write about sex and orgasms, and act like I am perfectly fine without you.
But this time, I just can’t.
Because as much as I’ve tried to fight it, and pretend it isn’t the case—you are a part of my life and you are important to me.
No matter how many amazing friends I have or how many other men want my attention—you give me something that no one else has ever been able to.
And it’s that fear of losing all of this that has me begging you not love me.
Not because it’s what I really want—but because it’s easier to request that you don’t fall in love with me than it is to ask if you already have.
Because questions mean answers—and answers can lead to endings.
And it’s hard to think of something ending that still feels like it’s waiting to begin.
So, please baby, don’t fall in love with me.
Don’t fall in love with nights in white cotton sheets, don’t fall in love with pictures drawn upon your back with fingertips—and please whatever you do, don’t fall in love with me because of my eyes.
Don’t even think about the dark watery blues of them—and how we could fall a hundred times and still never reach the depth of our connection.
Because this time baby—I just am asking you please, don’t fall in love with me.
Unless it’s because you’re going to stay.
Author: Kate Rose
Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock
Photo: flickr/tacit requiem