Sneak away, fly away. Watch me as I get away. Anyway, I can runaway.

It's that time of the relationship again.  You know, the one I always have when I'm getting too happy.  Things are amazing.  Nothing is going wrong.

Run.

Don't wait, don't give them a chance to hurt you.  Because it's going to come down to that.  It always comes down to that.  The one person, in the past history of my dating who didn't hurt me, who told me I was beautiful, and never said anything but wonderful things to me, I cut out of my life and made sure to burn that bridge so hard he'd never want me back.  Why?  Because I couldn't stand the idea of waiting for whatever was going to happen.  Because when he did what everyone else had, it was going to be that much worse, and ending it early was better than letting it happen.

Now I'm in the same spot.  Almost 5 months in, and things aren't going wrong.  Not like they always happen immediately, but...  And now I have a little, and if things go wrong again, he's going to be hurting, and I have no desire to put him through that again.  Losing the ex-asshole was really, really hard on him.  I can handle my own hurt.  I've got plenty of practice at that, and a therapist who will lovingly kick my ass all over the place until I'm better.  But he doesn't have my experience or practice, and I never want him to go through that again.

Part (most) of me wants to pack up and run.  See if I can get a transfer somewhere, and get the hell out of here.  Nothing works better to get out of these moments than running.  I've been here so long, that sometimes the urge to run is overwhelming.  I never loved Georgia in the first place, but there's something about being stuck here (yay divorce!) that makes it even worse.  I know I can't, and it's a bad example to set, but I just want to be so very far away from here.  It's never felt like home.

I think the worst part is, there's nothing he's doing wrong.  It's all in my head.  I know it's all in my head.  (Sadly, my head is a creative and terrible place some times.)  But I constantly watch, and wait.  It's the stupid self-doubt.  Who could love *me*, and why?  I've never found myself attractive (the entirely of my school career was me getting bullied about how ugly and worthless I was, so you know, understandable), I spend so much time around brilliant people that I end up doubting my intellectual worth, but mostly, who on earth could possible want me.  Me with all my insecurities and doubts.  All of my overpowering emotions.  All my fears, and half-assed dreams I'm never going to realize.  I can't possibly imagine *anyone* who would want that.