What the hell was on your mind
You thought I had the time, to be your little undercover thing
But see I can't deal with that, so you better just split with that
Come at me real
Quit playin these silly games
How can you love me, and then just leave me
Because you see somebody looking
And you think they disagree

"Can't Take Me Home" – Pink

FAITH POV:

When she told me how she felt I felt sick. It was everything I'd ever wanted but it's hard to believe. Why would someone like her ever want to be with anyone like me. When I start thinking like that it's like a haze of darkness comes across my vision and I want nothing more than to go out and get completely shit faced so I try not to go there. Instead I concentrate on convincing myself it's true. I think I see it in the way she places her hand in the small of my back, the way she brushes the hair away from my face and kisses my forehead for no reason and in the sweet nothing's she whispers in my ear when she thinks I'm asleep.

This thing between us has been growing since I came to live at her house. It's doing my head in. I don't know what it is and I don't want to ask because I'm too fucking afraid that she'll stop altogether. I think it's been about a month since I've been here, the first week or so is pretty hazy for me so I'm not one hundred percent certain.

It all changes when they're around. Her hands stay firmly at her sides and she practically ignores me. I know she's scared of how'd they'd react. her last squeeze went homicidal and nearly sent the world to hell and all but it still hurts like a mother fucker when she closes off like that. I know if this was her she would say the same thing about me, but the Scoobies are very protective of their golden girl and I've taken enough emotional bashings to last me a lifetime thank you very much.

When she pulls away I feel cold, like she's the only thing that keeps me warm. I don't want to go back to being so fucked up that I don't even know my own name but sometimes I feel like it was easier when I was living in the dark, before I knew what it was like to be in her life. Now I know what it feels like to have and to lose. If she loved me wouldn't she be proud of what we share? Wouldn't she want them to know?

Fucked if I know. I don't know the first thing about love, or being loved. In fact love scares the shit outta me. The thought of giving that much of myself to one person seems ridiculous. How much they could hurt me with that...how she hurts me.

Mrs S gave me a little nugget the other day and as much as I appreciate her taking the time to pass on her little pearls I don't know what she was smoking when she told me this. She sat me down all serious like on the couch and did that whole tucking my hair behind my ear thing that makes me want to curl up on her lap like a kitten while she reads me stories. Wait, forget it. I meant that thing she does that pisses the hell outta me and is so fucking annoying, 'cause you know, I'm badass and all that. Anyways she was looking at me all serious and she said,

"Faith, if you don't make yourself vulnerable you will never feel."

I kind of nodded at her but woman is way off base with that one. I haven't been vulnerable in a long time and I've felt a hell of a fucking lot. Far as I can tell making yourself vulnerable never got anybody anywhere. If I open myself up to her all the way what's to say she's not gonna turn around and not like what she sees. I don't particularly fancy having my heart ripped from my chest.

Maybe she's giving me a sign. By pulling away when we're around them maybe she's letting me down easy. Tryna make it so it won't hurt so bad when she lets me go. Or maybe couples just don't do that sorta thing. Never really had any examples to compare. Ma wasn't really the hold onto them kinda gal and even Mrs S has never had a boyfriend whilst I've been in the hood.

God I'm a fucking contradiction. I want her to love me, she says that she loves me but I'm too god damned screwed up to believe it. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the one that pulls away. Maybe I don't want them to know. Everything is so nice in our little bubble that maybe I don't want them to screw it up.

No that's not it. It's not me. It's her, it's definitely her. She's afraid of what they'll say so she unlinks her hand from mine. She thinks that they'll hate her more so she's the one who stuffs her hand firmly into her jacket and walks away from me. It's her that crosses her arms and looks away from my eyes.

It's totally her...