"Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

So I asked you a question. Being that there's only one you, one reader at the moment, you know who you are. I said, "What do you want most to hear me say to you?" It's a hard question. I should know. I tried to be fair and answer it from my end-- what do I want to hear you say most?

Hard Question.
But I got to run away from that; it was my question and you had to answer it, not me.

"Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

--
"Walk away and leave a girl alone? Chris? You've got to be kidding me. That's so unlike him!"
And usually, that is the case. I'm the kind of guy who likes to think that chivalry isn't dead, it just doesn't come standard anymore. I know that chivalry's outdated and can't survive as a modern concept. That's why I have neo-chivalry, a vague nuanced concept that generally revolves around the idea that as long as the girl can conduct herself as a lady, I too have a duty to conduct myself as a gentleman and even when she conducts herself in a less-than befitting manner, I still retain that duty. But I digress. What would make Chris go away and leave you alone? That's what I'm taking away from this-- the question I'm going to try to answer in a vague kind of general way.

"Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

I don't like making promises. Not because I don't like being bound to my word, or bound in any sense, but because I don't like to lie. I like to think that a man's worth can be, to some degree, measured by the reliability of his words, and I would like to be a man worth something. This of course extends to promises-- even more strongly so than mere words. I don't like to make promises unless I know I can and fully intend to keep them even at cost. That's why it would be so uncharacteristic of me to say these words. To say something which, inherently contains a promise that I will always be around, that I will not abandon. Ever.

I'd be among the first to say that I wouldn't abandon a girl. Even my roomates-- those who are more familiar with me than most, yet not as familiar as many would like, can figure this out about me. I don't say no to girls often. It's a kind of strange pathological weakness that, until now, hasn't been exploited much. I'm rather thankful. But because I've done so before, it precludes any more promises. I know I can now, and while the likelihood may be incredibly remote, it remains possible. I can probably count the number of promises I've made on fewer than a dozen hands. I don't have that many, but it would only take about a dozen.

"Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

I'm so confused. Why does this matter so much? What is it about me? I'm so confused. I don't understand. I've always seen myself as the moth's flame, the will-o-the-wisp, the Lurid A, maybe a shooting star-- pretty, but this ball of molten doom is heading for something and it's gonna hit something. To me, wanting this is like being some sad masochist. I don't understand.

"Tell me that you'll always be here . . .

I'm...charming. I can get that. But there's gotta be a limit, a point where I've hit that marginal benefit curve and more is less, right?

. . . and that you won't leave me here all alone."

But then again, loneliness is an issue for you. Loneliness...ceased being an issue for me before I realized that it could even be an issue. Before I developed that part of my social awareness, I had already become so comfortable by myself, I'm almost thoroughly convinced that I'm either highly tolerant or immune altogether to this sensation of loneliness. But if you feel loneliness, then it's better not to be alone, no matter what kind of devil you're stuck with, right?

But you're not alone.

You have friends, other people, and that's where I get confused.
Where were you before all of this, before I came around again, what was your life then?


"Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

but I don't know where I'll be months and years down the road, how can I say-- how can you say that-


"Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

How can you expect me to make promises that I can't expect to keep!? How is that any better than lying?! Do you want me to lie to you??


"Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

You won't be alone! There's plenty of other people, and there will always be other people!


"Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

And I can't. I've known this was your fear of fears, a meobius strip of events only to lead back to that singular event. That I would walk away again, and that you would be, in ways that I have not, and perhaps may never understand, alone. Sometimes I want to say those things just to make you feel better, but I know you've always preferred the truth to lies. But even so I wonder if my wanting to make you feel better would be enough of a reason.

Who I am hasn't changed. I was Chris back then, and I'm Chris now. But What I am, that's changed. I'm older now. I'm more mature, I like to think. My thoughts are more complicated and I'm not as prone to drive myself into emotional corners with no choice but to spiral downward. I can also recognize that when girls ask hypothetical questions about what you'd do if they kissed you, or licked your ear, that I'm being come onto. But I still don't lie.

". . .Tell me that you'll always be here and that you won't leave me here all alone."

I'm so sorry, miss, but I can't do that. But I can say that I'm here now. And as long as I'm here, you'll never be all alone. I can't promise that I'll always be here, and I can't promise that you'll never be alone. But for as long as I'm here, and you're here, you'll never be alone.

-Fin