Push.

It’s been a long couple of days. A long week actually. There’s just been a lot that’s come up and this job really takes up the vast, vast majority of my time. It’s not bad, it just is. But on top of that, my thoughts… well, they’ve been there. And before this week, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t really had time to think.

So I’ve withdrawn a bit. And I’ve let the weight sit on my shoulders.

And today, I barely spoke.

The four of us went out to dinner and I probably said… I don’t know. Not more than a hand full of sentences. It’s easy to not talk. Maybe because it’s so hard to actually get words out. Maybe because I know I have nothing to add to the conversation. And why open my mouth if I have nothing of benefit to add?

The other two left and he and I ended up walking the same direction. He’s not always comfortable with silence. I’m often content to be consumed by it. But he broke it.

He told me I was really quiet today.

I think I said, ‘yeah.’ Just… agreeing with him. My voice felt light in that word.

He asked if there was any particular reason. I said I was just tired.

And he didn’t push. I think he’s afraid of pushing with me.

He doesn’t know that’s what I need.

But I can’t expect that from him. I can’t even bring myself to use the word ‘friend’ yet. I’m not just tired. But I couldn’t say that the reason I was quiet was because I was going through the part of making friends when I freak out and pull away. I couldn’t tell him I was quiet because my insecurities were all but eating me alive the night before. I couldn’t tell him I was quiet because people were wearing me out. I couldn’t tell him I was quiet because I’m in pain and it weighs on me out to hide it. I couldn’t tell him.

And who wants to be friends with that mess?

I appreciate him asking. I do. A lot. But if we never become the good friends I know we could be, it won’t be his fault.

It’ll be my fault. Because when push comes to shove, I shove people out with my lies and they don’t know they have to push.

-Melissa

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