I hastily walk out of the apartment building, ducking past unfamiliar faces and trying to get to fresh air. My head starts pounding more ferociously, and I feel my throat close up.
I squeeze my eyes shut once my back touches the brick wall outside the house. I ball both my hands up into fists, breathing rapidly. Trying to make sense of this situation. Trying to make sense of what she just said to me.
"Now you're bothered I actually care about you!"
The word 'care' put things into a different kind of perspective that I just couldn't deal with. Her caring for me wasn't substantial, nor was it even really attainable. She cares for me, she gets hurt.
But all I wanted to do was let her in. Which caused me to think about how hard it would be for me to do that. Or let her go. Which caused me to think about how hard it would be for me to do that, too.
