I constantly find myself battling claustrophobia. There is a fear that my space is being violated, that my independence being slowly pulled away. I fear too much togetherness. I fear dependence. I fear I will lose myself, if I share me with someone else.

Am I making sense? Perhaps it’s the list I made. Of what I want from life. Perhaps it’s the need to tick-mark every item on that list to feel fulfilled. Perhaps it’s the fear of falling short of what I expect from myself, and the ticks are the yardstick. Maybe, it’s simply this notion that I have created for myself: that by being together, the list doubles, and given that the time I have remains the same, my portion of the list will end up only partially tick-marked.

But does it matter, I ask myself now. I guess I realizse it doesn’t. I guess I am aware that the joy of togetherness is better than any silly list. But somewhere I worry that that list is me, or the ‘me’ that I want to be, and that that will be left unrealised. A lot of potential that came to nothing. A mere half, needing another half. And that image I despise.

I have these wings – strange things – with an insatiable desire to grow. And my wings need the wind, because they were made to fly. And not just any wind: a wind that’ll get stronger as my wings grow stronger. Can being together, help me take flight? Somewhere I live with the fear that the wind will turn against me, and my wings will be unable to resist; or that it’ll just stop blowing.

I was made to touch the highest skies. Don’t hold me back. Don’t tell me where to go. And I’ll try not to juxtapose what I have with what could have been.