Too Much Information

Before I can stop her or see it coming, she tells me about an ex and I turn over inside.
It's too late.
It's likely not the kind of thing I can forget.
I know this pattern.
I will turn it against her and use it to validate my desire to stray.
The old emotional pattern, so powerful in my core narrative asserts itself or begins to plant the seed.

She can feel me unmistakably emotionally withdraw. She thinks it's because of the ******** or insecurity or some other emotion but it's none of these in actuality.
It is simply too much truth and the illusion warps under the stress of the weight of this fact and eventually cracks and chips and shatters in my hands.

She asks "Where are you? Are you here?"
"Yes," I lie but my eyes shout in deafening silence and distance.

I feel the old me step forward from the shadows. He has been waiting for this exact moment.
"See? I told you. She's not different. None of them. This is why you let me deal with them. Silly boy. You thought you'd found the exception. Shhh. It's okay, let me take the wheel."

I have to now decide if this is something I can accept and let go.
It is a motherfucking problem.
She has not learned that there is such a thing as too much truth.
Too soon, too soon babe.

Too much, too soon. Too much bare essential truth and intimacy s