Slow ...fade

One of us is doing the slow fade, the Doctor or me, I'm not sure. I think it's closing, it's ending. It's over.

What a shame really, when I like him, I like him. But liking him now means that in a week, I will like him more. In a month, I will like him more than I will next week. In two months, when he leaves, my level of liking him may be unfathomable.

I can't go into this knowing that I like him and also fully knowing he is leaving. So before I care too much, give too much of myself, tell him all my secrets, hold his hand, it needs to be done.

And fine, judge me. Judge me because I'm guarding myself and because I don't want to deal with this. Judge me for knowing myself too well and knowing how I will be. How I already am. How I'm angsty and mad at him for no good reason. Mad at him for knowing that it's never going to work. Brooding over my shortcomings, brooding over my inability to go with the flow. Brooding because it needs to be over. It needs to be done.