A Haunting Guilt

That night when we were together, you asked me why I was shy? I had nothing to say. So you tried to hold my hand but I shrugged away.

I am not like you, I said, while staring into your eyes. For some, intimacy is a hard thing to come by.

I have been in a constant struggle with my awkwardness as long as I can remember. I stutter even when I have an interesting anecdote to talk about. I am scared I cannot be your hero.

You hold me in high esteem and I wonder what if my incapabilities infect you.

You run wild brimming with adventure and wear confidence as your second visage.

You see me try and fail and you still have hopes. Why do you have to sing those songs and talk about enigmatic theories of how world functions? Why do you let your emotions flow unattended and never let your brain have a say? Why don't you stop looking at me with high hopes?

I am scared these bridges you built for us to last will only collapse. I can be your light, I say that inside after every debacle I create. But then I fall down yet again. There's only so much of guilt I can keep within me, and I already feel saturated.