submission #11

I used to look up, look around. 

I like seeing things, where I'm going, who is doing what around me. 

I stand up and take in my surroundings. 

Not anymore. 

Now I look down. I keep my eyes down for fear of looking up, of looking around and accidentally seeing you. I fear seeing you seeing me or you seeing me see you.  Because despite the fact that I've thought about what it would be like to see you, in a way craved what the situation would do to us, I remember what it feels like to picture your face in my minds eye, and I realise that that encounter is the last thing I want.

That feeling and realisation is the reason why I no longer look around when I walk.

It's also the reason I no longer wear my glasses even if unnecessary, like I used to. With them on I see and I recognise. So I no longer wear them indefinitely, because without them I might see you but I won't recognise you. And if I don't recognise you, I won't feel the way I do when I think of you. 

If I can barely handle the feelings evoked by images in my minds eye, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can't handle seeing you in person.  

I can't. 

And I won't. 

Until the sickening feeling I get when I think of you ceases to exist.