Logan and I should break up.
We’re not good together anymore, and staying in a relationship that’s already dead in the water is stagnance. I know that.
But forward movement is scary and backward movement is mortifying.
Change in all direction is just so damn daunting.
So, I’m standing still like a deer in the headlights, waiting for the truck to hit.
I know what you’re thinking— Leo, that’s a dumb way to die—and you’d be right. I could make excuses for my behavior—talk about how I wasn’t born into the kind of emotional stability that enables healthy decision making. Blame it all on my dad and martyr myself faster than he decided to leave me in my alcoholic mother’s care after I was born. I could pin it on my 19 years and a general lack of experience, but I’m self-aware enough to know it’s my choices that have put me in this position.
It’s my choices that have me avoiding the inevitable with Logan.
And it’s my choices that have me standing in the metaphorical street, staring down his brother’s cherry red pickup truck like a game of unilateral chicken.
I know what’s right, and why letting myself get more and more tangled up with a man that’s 16 years my senior is wrong. But that doesn’t change his trajectory, or mine. And even though this head-on collision might be disastrous, I can’t seem to move out of the way.