Post Traumatic Stress. I have it, don’t we all? The stress of the day, the trauma of the past, and the future. His friends died in Iraq. If I had friends die in a war, I might drink too. He kissed me, violently, with a little bit of a bite. He expressed his true feelings, after dropping his beer. It was a pattern that I had been noticing, in the few days we had spent together. During which I often asked, does he want me as a friend or a lover? Our time together was always formal, military training having something to do with it I’m sure. And look I am attracted to lost and damaged, being lost myself, or I was until I found myself. But when you’ve felt lost for so long, it’s easy to go down the wrong road. That’s why I carry a GPS with me, that way I don’t get lost as easily. That’s the idea, but I wish there was a GPS for the heart. Is this a friend or lover I should have? Does anyone say lover anymore? I just hate the word partner. It sounds like a business transaction. Boyfriend. Husband. I might just be a better person single. I just might be, but I won’t know until I try. Yes, trying letting someone in again. To see the damaged and the broken, when I lie in bed alone it all sounds possible, doable. But when he’s lying next to me, holding my hand, I can’t help but wait for the moment when he lets go.
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