I could have left that place, just then, and promptly died any horrific and unspeakable death with no complaint or regret. I genuinely felt that way.

I learned from you, not long after, that seeking validation in reciprocal kindness from a pretty face, or in my proximity to the pretty surface onto which I was projecting ideas like so fucking cool it hurts, would always lead me away from it.

Whatever my intent, however unconscious, I was running away from what I thought I meant to find.

"That is fear," you said.