Fear

I am afraid of spiders.

Tonight I pulled a blanket out of a chest and I shook it out before I wrapped it around my shoulders, I shrieked and leapt away from the big black spider that had appeared at my feet. The blanket was puddled at my feet as I gasped for breath. I went upstairs to grab a shoe to kill the spider and, when I returned, I looked down to aim for the spider and shrieked again--seeing for the first time the web that must've been rubbed from the blanket onto my sweater. Jumping up and down, I ripped my sweater off and stood there gasping from adrenaline once more. More than once I stalked towards the spider, only to run away when the spider moved. In between I watched it, working up my nerve to get close enough to kill it. Finally I forced myself not to run away and I killed the spider.

I am afraid of relationships.

More than a month ago he asked if I wanted to go out with him. That first night I could barely meet his eyes, afraid of crossing that boundary. Even as we started seeing each other I was tentative, afraid that I wasn't attracted to him and afraid that I didn't want to be with someone so naive again. As he kissed me goodnight on his threshold a couple weeks ago I breathed in his scent and felt myself start to relax for the first time, start to enjoy our kiss, and then I blinked at the distance I had already put between us. Last weekend I decided that it was time to decide for certain about our chemistry so I arranged for us to enjoy an evening together alone. We watched two movies, holding onto each other in the dim light, but each time he glanced toward me I looked away. Afterward I'd have normally said it was time for him to go, but the moment of decision had come and I leaned into him. Finally I didn't pull away.

That friend

She's right, you know. Somehow she's always understood me even better than I've understood myself. She offers me a perspective I wouldn't have seen without her and when she tells me what I should do, she's illuminating the way to being someone I've always wanted to be--her.

The fact she thinks that I can do better, that she thinks my search for chemistry is doomed, makes me wonder how I should tell him I'd rather be friends. The fact that we never talk about our past and that I keep the subject away from what our relationship is these days and how I feel about him could be another nail in this coffin. Or perhaps it shows the way to find what I'm looking for.

What's right for her isn't right for me. And how can she really understand when we only talk once a year, despite the intensity of our college friendship? So that leaves the question--do I live like her to try and be more like her?