Catch Me, I'm Falling

I'm not going to fall.

Every time I fall I wish for someone to catch me because I can't stop it on my own. It's easier to just keep my distance, to never put myself in a position where I could fall in the first place.

But really it's not that easy.

I don't want to fall.

I'm not afraid of the flying but I'm afraid of the falling because no matter how many times I've fallen, he's never been there to catch me. 

I'm tired of waiting for someone to catch me because every time I hit the ground I have to pick myself up again, more bruised and battered than the time before.

My heart hurts too much to want to fall again.

I'm not falling.

The exhilaration is almost worth it, but not quite. I won't let myself fall again.

As if it's that simple. Which it's not.

I keep reminding myself that the little things he does may mean the world to me but mean nothing to him because he's just the kind of person who makes people happy. 

I'm going to fall.

Please be there to catch me. I don't know if I can take this again.

Why did he have to put his arm around me? Why did he have to know just what to say? Why did he have to make me so happy? And why do those things make me question myself?

I want to fall.

But I know I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. So why do I still want to?

I just have to wait for someone who's there to catch me at the bottom. Right?

I'm think I'm falling.

Don't. Please, don't because then you'll fall and he won't be there to catch you at the bottom.

He never has been before.