I tried to avoid Mike and he knew it. I regret that I pulled away from him and I regret the way I treated him during this time. The truth is that Mike had become a constant reminder to me of how things should be, of what I should be doing, of what I should be saying and feeling and thinking. Mike was brutally honest with me as he had always been. He saw things clearly, but I started resenting the fact that he was always right. In the state that I was in, I couldn’t handle his unrelenting truthfulness anymore. I didn’t know how not to share everything with him, how not to show him my true colors. So I let him go. I didn’t want to, but at that point in my life, I didn’t like who I was. I didn’t want Mike to see me like this and I didn’t want him to tell me what to do. He tried to haul me back up, but I deliberately made myself heavy. I made myself heavy like a small child throwing a tantrum, throwing themselves on the floor and refusing to be picked up by their parents’ loving arms. Mike reached out to me. He wanted to pick me up, to take me into his arms, but I refused. It would have been easy to let him help me, but it would have made me vulnerable to him in a way I had never been before. It would have made me dependent on him. And the thought of this scared me.