I found out about this pattern just some time ago, it is kind of fresh and might be just a temporary thing. But it works, for now.
The relationship is like a bed. There are times when I stay lying in it for days, smelling the familiar sheets and playing stupid games, then resting for a while, and then all over again, from the very beginning. It almost hurts every time I need to leave this comfy cloud of beddings just to pee or eat something. I rush back, can’t wait to fall back into the bubble. It does seem perfect, that is true. But nothing is, that is true even more. Because what happens in a bubble is more intensive in every way – and hurts more as well. Every small thing suddenly means a world to me, I cannot control myself, the bed is shrinking, I become crazily scared I will fall down from it and never find my way back.
There are times when I sleep only at nights. Life becomes stereotypic; days are shiny and nights dark. I start to miss those lazy moments, those childish games, that comfort of belonging somewhere. And I know there is a way back, the bed is still warm, welcoming.. I also know it is not good to let my whole self grow into one place, one moment, one person. It changes me, it makes me complete but empty at the same, it is myself, but somebody else.
I have to fight it all the time.
