A Song of Two Humans

Maybe it's that it's 5 a.m. or maybe I'm just a crazy film major, but I had this image just now. That scene, from "Sunrise." The one where he finally catches up with his wife. She stares up at him in trembling horror. So innocent. He's tall figure next to her petite frame instinctually foreboding. He tries his best to appear small. He does not mean to frighten, or overwhelm. Only to express himself. To ask for a chance.

Don't be afraid of me. The line from the film flashes. And I see it in my mind like I see your face.

Please don't run. Please don't be afraid because I like you and I can't keep it to myself anymore. I get that natural instinct might be telling you to run from my seemingly foreboding feelings. I can see the terror in your eyes, and in the way you safeguard your heart. But please, give me a chance. Please don't run from me because I like you. Please don't turn cold because I momentarily let it show that I care. I don't know how to be any less, but I also do not expect you to know how to be anymore.

Who I am is an affectionate person. I like terms of endearment and kissing your cheek. I want you to know that you're appreciated. It's not some expectation. This isn't an entrapment. There is no catch. I promise to never tell you one thing and mean another. You don't even have to reciprocate. But when I have somebody in my life like I've got you right now, I don't know how to turn off that care giver instinct. I'm going to bake you cupcakes and kiss you sweetly and ask you how you're day is going with genuine concern. It's who I am. Please don't run from it. All I'm asking for is a chance. I know you want it. I can see it in your eyes.

Let yourself feel. Let yourself be loved. Don't run from it. Don't run from me. I promise I won't hurt you. And should you hurt me, I promise I won't break.

Give me a chance. Give us a chance.

Don't be afraid of me.