When your worst fears become reality, then what?

You've reached the worst.

Is it as bad as you thought?

Is it worse?

Is it somewhere in the middle?

When you're surrounded by people who can forge bonds of diamond from nothing but sand and you're left trying to keep the sand from simply slipping through your fingers, then what?

The more you worry, the more the sand escapes you and the more others appear to know what to do.

Are they lucky? Am I unlucky?

Are they skillful? Am I lacking?

Are they scared at all, or is it just me?

Do they not get swallowed by fear, but challenge it?

Defeat it?

How?

Please, tell me how.

Please, let me finally find everything I've ever wanted.

Please don't push me away.

I promise that I care,

I'm just too scared to speak up and say something stupid.

Please don't let me be surrounded by diamonds while I'm sinking into the sand.

I'm from white picket fences and houses to uniform to distinguish,

A town nestled away in middle class suburbia.

I'm from the aging cook books that never seem to be open,

From the photographs that display long forgotten moments,

From the rooms my family filled with roaring laughter and odd jokes.

I'm from a father who's close,

A mother who's far away,

And siblings who remind me of the lessons I've forgotten.

We sat under the stars, basking in all forms of light:

starlight

moonlight

porch light.

And with all these lights combined, I could make out pieces of him:

a collection of curls,

hints of slowly growing stubble,

tired eyes,

worried eyes.

I pointed to the moon,

asked if he saw a rabbit or man.

He just laughed weakly,

to humor me.

I asked him about Petunia, his devilish dog.

"How is that dog?"

He offered nothing more than a "fine."

"Remember that time she stuck her head in the fish bowl and your sister was crying and begging us to save her fish?"

I laughed, hoping it'd be infectious.

He smiled, but it didn't seem to touch his eyes.

"Ooh. Remember-"

"Stop."

Silence fell between us,

but the world kept speaking:

the dogs kept barking,

the cicadas kept shouting,

the neighbors kept arguing.

"No more," he said.

"I can't do this anymore."

"Why?"

He turned his tired, sad eyes to mine, filled with tears.

"Because I'd be lying to both of us if we continued this any longer."

He kissed the top of my head,

hopped over the fence,

left me to sort out these thoughts.

Then the porch lights turned off,

and the moon light didn't seem so bright,

and the stars were blocked by clouds of gray,

and I wondered what I did to drive him away.

You exist.

You'll smile at my successes, help me brush off my failures.

You'll laugh at my half-assed jokes, tolerate my sarcastic remarks.

You'll sympathize with me when the world seems too big and I can't cope.

You'll always be with me in spirit, helping me navigate through the world.

You're still with me after all this distance and all this time.

You're still with me, and that makes me happy.

I watched them walk down the hallway, fingers interlaced, arms swinging back and forth.

I watched them walk away, no snide comments or halfway-stifled laughs escaping the lips of our allegedly tolerant generation.

I watched him and her, in love and unafraid to show it.

I watched them and wondered why that couldn't be us.

Feeling heated.

Desiring destruction

While self-destructing.

Knowing it's wrong,

It's unhealthy,

But being unable to control what burns underneath the surface.