I’m scared of heights.  I’d rather not encounter a snake or a bear.  I don’t play with fire, I wear my seatbelt, and I am pretty sure I could use deep breathing exercises to talk myself through a very small, enclosed space.  So it’s funny to sit back and think that the one fear that really petrifies me to the bone, is a ghost.  Not the dead kind, but the living kind.  The kind from the past and that comes back to haunt.  Seeing your face again is my greatest fear.  I’d rather take my chances with the bear or the cramped space.  My biggest fear is that the minute I let my guard down, I’ll turn around and bump into you.  And Mrs. You.  And possibly by now, Baby You.  I can barely tolerate the thought of it.  And sometimes, after a long day with sore feet and guilt from potato chips weighing on my conscious, I weep at the thought.

Isn’t it ironic how you broke my heart all the way from Italy and the universe thought it would be funny to station you three hours away in Florida? Just a hop and a skip away.  I hope you love Florida.  I hope it’s paradise and you (and Mrs. You) never leave its borders.  I know–because we talked day in and day out for months and months–that you used to come here when you were in Alabama.  I fear I’ll be out with friends having a rip roaring good time and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Then, when I’m walking down a hall alone with my defenses down and a smile on my face, you’ll come walking towards me.  I don’t know what I would do.  I’m fairly certain I could remain standing, although I may casually run a finger along the wall to steady myself.  I don’t know if I would freeze or just stare hard and walk past you. I don’t know if I could breathe until you had passed.  I think not.  When I picture this horror in my mind, I don’t feel any air getting to me.   

And in my mind, the worst thing you could ever do would be weasel your way into my life a third time.  It was one thing to break my heart in 1997.  We were young and dumb.  But what happened in 2014?  No, that was different.  That was…cold.  And heartless.  Careless.  You have no idea how hard it was to keep going after that.  The devastation was fresh when, like dominos, everything else started falling apart.  Life came undone.  I survived.  But of all the absolute fucking bullshit that next year and a half was, the scar that still remains most sensitive is you.  My dad, the dog, the job…I got through it.  It was not expected, but it was in the realm of possibility.  You crushing my heart and letting the all communication cease with 5,000 miles between us?  After I’d devoted myself to you while you were in Afghanistan and rushed off to Italy to see you as soon as you got out of a war zone?  You just left me hanging here?!  

No, of all the fears and monsters and demons this world has to offer, I’d pick all of them over you.  Maybe you aren’t a bad guy, but you’re my biggest fear.