The wind off the ocean was rolling and picking up speed. Dark clouds in the distance were fast approaching.

Ren was telling me that he wanted to spend more time with me out and about, ‘doing things,’ social things, blah blah blah. It was the same argueent over and over, and I stopped listening minutes ago: he thought I was too introverted, and I thought he was too focused on others - disconnected from himself. There was no middle ground when every date turned into a battle of wills - mine quiet, his loud.

Whatever this was, this “walk” that was supposed to help repair our relationship, was doing nothing put pushing us further apart. If the weather was indicating what to come, we were in trouble. I kicked the toe of my boot into the moist dirt of the footpath and watched it lift, and get carried over the edge of the cliff by the wind. I did it again.

“This is what I’m talking about Millie, this,” he gestured erratically to me. “You are so withdrawn, living inside your head, thinking ‘who knows what,’ but obviously it’s something big enough to make you pull away.”

Withdrawn? I’ve actually never been more connected, thank you very much, the problem was I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. This man could talk the leg off a table. Sure, I lived in my head but at least when I opened my mouth it carried some sort of substance.

I huffed out a sardonic laugh, “we’re just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.”

He tossed his head back in frustration, “What?”

I took a step towards him, the wind now at my back, pushing me, encouraging me onward. “You think you have all the answers. You think that for anyone to figure this” - I waved my hands in a gesture that was meant to indicate ‘life’ - “out, they have to be just like you. Except you are so busy getting involved in everyone else’s business, you haven’t taken the time to look within yourself.”

“That’s not —,” he started, but I cut him off for once.

“It is, Ren. It is true. None of us have life figured out, including you. We both want love, we both are hungry, starving beggars, telling each other where to find bread, but neither of us are going to eat it. We aren’t helping each other Ren. We are actually hurting each other. Stalling each other. Spending more time trying to figure the other out, without figuring ourselves out.”

“Millie —,”

“Stop. This is my turn to speak. This is my life, and my choices. I need space from you so I can figure out what I want. Me,” I slapped a hand to my chest for emphasis.

He slumped. He had to have known this was coming. Things hadn’t been great between us for weeks, and I was done pretending it was.

“Mill,” his tone was exacerbated, “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you. You don’t need to people please all the time. I just want to do it together.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not.”

“Because the second I’m with you I start taking care of you and I don’t know how to stop.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I don’t want help.” I was starting to feel cornered. And when I feel cornered, I can’t trust. And when I can’t trust I start to think people’s motivation is to hurt me. And around and around we go.

“Mill,” he pleaded.

“I’m done. I’m taking care of myself from here on out, alone, you need to take care of yourself. Alone.”

I turned and walked away, surprised that it wasn’t sadness and loss that I was feeling but strength, determination and finally, a sense of freedom.

I left him standing there, holding the baggage he carried, but couldn’t see.