The Antagonist

I will do everything in my power to avoid confrontations. I would rather smile and simper and let feelings bury themselves than disagree. Especially if the encounter or acquaintance is to be brief. I would let the other person be domineering and myself be dismissed than contest myself to their views. As long as the subject matter is not something I deem important, I swallow my heart. Perhaps too often, God knows.

And then I observe said person interact with someone much less inhibited than I, and I see them relent. They yield, they listen. And I wonder. And I realize, just how terrified I really am of the world. So much so that I am most of the time... removed. I withdraw, recoil, evade.

But really, I would rather be loved than respected. I accept such expressions as; "I'm glad I got you as my partner rather than some annoying person." to which I reply, "I feel the same way."  I prefer to be companionable than interesting. 

And I understand now, just how decidedly uncommunicative this method of mine is. It is my own fault and nobody else's. To be so afraid. To be so slighted.

Sometimes though, I put my foot down. I become adamant out of the blue. Simply because I am the kind who bottles up. Sometimes I lose it. Sometimes I disappoint. Yet, confrontations and disappointments are inevitable after all. I am not a particularly patient person, or a reasonable one even. I try to be but I know I am not.

In the end, the aftermath of such interactions has only one outcome: Guilt. The weight of guilt crushes me absolutely. Because I feel, I know that I must always be the one who understands. The one who yields. And because I reflect, I become even more affected by it all. And when I fail to be the one who makes compromises, the guilt is ever more devastating.

I am terrified of emotions. Of people. So I write. I write senseless poems. I pen my anguish, unresolved sentiments. I look upon the world as one unrequited. I am the antagonist with no adversary. I am invisible with love indivisible.