It’s not your fault.
Some days I feel like I should get this tattooed on my forehead.
When I withdraw into myself and fall silent, it’s not because of anything you did.
When I blow up over some inconsequential thing you’ve said, know that the real trigger happened hours ago.
When you do something that unexpectedly makes me feel trapped or panicked, there was no way you could have known until I told you.
When I zone out in the middle of a conversation, it has nothing to do with how interesting the conversation is.
When I ignore you because I’m engrossed in writing or reading, it’s not a reflection on how I feel about our relationship.
When I twist out of your embrace or push your hand away, it doesn’t mean you’ve done something wrong.
When I forget to call you, it’s not because I’ve forgotten you.
When I don’t look at you during a conversation, it’s not because you’re boring me.
When you suggest doing something together and I say no, it doesn’t mean I don’t like you.
When I can’t explain my feelings or actions, it has nothing to do with how hard you’re trying to understand.
Because I didn’t mean to hurt you doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
I say these things, but the sting of my actions isn’t lessened.
To bridge all the gaps would be a full time job.
Understanding helps, as does lowered expectations for everyone involved, but ultimately I know that I’ll keep running up against these unintended hurts that I see only in retrospect.
This is who I am, how I am.
It’s not you. It’s me?