Member-only story
The Addiction to Almost
When Proximity Becomes the Poison
The calculated sabotage of our deepest human connections
I taste copper on my tongue the moment someone steps too close.
My skin prickles with warning, throat tightens with unspoken panic. It happens without warning — this visceral rejection disguised as casual distance. My body knows before my mind catches up: another soul has breached the invisible boundary I’ve drawn around my life. They’ve crossed from the safety of temporary into the danger of forever. Their presence now marks territory I allow no one to claim.
The pattern haunts me with its ruthless consistency. A friendship ignites — conversations that swallow darkness whole, laughter that leaves my ribs aching, the gradual unveiling of my unpolished self. Their voice becomes a sound my ears hunger for. Their troubles nest beside my own heartbeat. The distinction between “them” and “me” softens, threatening to vanish entirely.
Then comes the drowning sensation. The pressure of their expectations settling on my chest. The terrifying vision of permanence stretching into unknown horizons.
And I reach for the knife I’ve hidden all along.
