Lonely Hearts Won't Break

ELEVEN｜SABOTAGE

What do you do when you think you've bitten off more than you can chew? You bite off even more. And in attempt to swallow both chunks of your overcompensation down with a gulp of audacity, you choke.

I was choking.

Under the pressure of expectations, that were a combination of my own and those of my parents, I was also crumbling. Doubt lived in me, since birth it seems, and only temporarily did it ever lay dormant. This time for a bout of four days, which I should say is probably record breaking, and only because someone else other than myself believes in and thinks so highly of me. That belief had me working and I mean the hardest I had ever worked in my life.

For hours at a time each day I was busy either putting my vision for the art center into words while Dallas sketched a physical blueprint or scrubbing down the walls and painting them a warm shade of green. With the requested help I managed to get some of the handy work completed too and even did some window shopping that turned into me buying a light fixture that had no special resting place, but it for sure has a home. A home that is becoming mine away from home, and yet all its growing lush has me here, choking.

Seeing things come to life was inspiring, yes, but it was also daunting. Now that I had spoken life into this art center and was following through with making it a real thing, I had to keep striving until it was grand opening day. I had to go beyond that and keep it functioning and more than anything beneficial to the kids. But I couldn't end there, I had to expand my vision or else what is the purpose of existing if I'm not growing? The issue is I had never thought that far in advance. I've always been so focused on the moment, usually moving with the ebb and flow of its everchanging nature that I couldn't begin to tell myself, or folks who wondered, what was next. I hadn't convinced myself completely that I was built to carry out this dream, so what makes me think I can carry out another? Was I an imposter?

"Tate." Like someone snapped their finger and ended the spell, Dallas' grasped my wrists in his palms as I blinked away from the hole I burned into the concrete and looked up into his eyes. He hovered over me, worry contorting his face, as I fell silent in the middle of our conversation and became distant. His palms gently pressed into my skin, a caress to my bones, and eased me. "You okay?"

"Yes."

Dallas' brow immediately perked up as he dragged out a nod. He wasn't convinced. "You wanna try that again?"

"No."

"So you are capable of not lying to my face. Nice to know," His sarcasm was sharp as his touch melted away from my arms. "What is going on up there in that head of yours, girl?"

"I just don't think I can do this without you," I admitted with a sigh. Dallas' forehead furrowed as he now tilted his head. "And I know you have to go back to work and handle your own business, which is way more important than this, but it was really nice having your help. You're the only person who seems to really grasp my vision and so it was also comforting having you around."

"Why are you talking like I'm leaving you?"

"Because you are," I said as a matter of fact. "And let's be real, the only way I've, this," I pointed toward the locked door of the vacant space. "have made it this far is because of how kind and helpful you've been. Sure, my sister invested money into it and my savings is keeping the lights on as we speak, but you've done way more."

"Woah," Dallas stepped back, carving space between us. "It sounds like you're afraid to give yourself credit and that's self-deprecation, you know? You can suffocate to death."

"That explains...a lot." I mumbled, palming my chest and took a deep and necessary breath. Dallas reached his lanky arms out and laid his hands onto my shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I just don't want to fuck up. I don't want to be a fuck up."