“I’m a runner.”

As the words came out of your mouth, every alarm in my body was raging. But I couldn’t say anything as it was a vulnerable moment for you to tell me this in a completely different context.

I wanted to applaud you for sharing your feelings and opening up. Getting you to do so was as hard as getting into the Olympic trials so I decided to shut up and be happy about the progress.

I wanted to be there for you. Tell you not to run. That I’d be there and it was okay. But that night, when things got too hard, you ran. You said, “I need to go” and came back for a simple kiss after putting your shoes on and left.

I wanted to be upset but I decided to let it go. Let you have your moment with the intense feelings you were dealing with. Stunned in silence, I sat there.

Later I texted you, “I love you. I hope you got home safe.”

You said, “I love you too. I’m sorry I’m horrible because I am.”

I responded and said you’re not horrible and that I hoped one day you’d feel okay opening up to me. Now I realize you were trying to tell me something, hiding the lies that would eventually reveal themselves.

As you started to detach from me, my insecurities grew bigger and the voice echoed in my mind even more. “I’m a runner.”

There it was. It came out of your own mouth. It was like you were telling me a secret about a secret.

I didn’t want to believe that it would affect us.

Our relationship was more “adult”. More mature. We respected each other and loved each other. Surely, this would not affect us.

But now I see so clearly, this perfect moment of foreshadowing of what was to come.

Not even a month later, I let you know I’m leaving the country for a week.

You promise to “find time to see me”, which makes me sound like a chore instead of someone you love and want to see…and you don’t. From the airport bar, I let you know how sad and disappointed I am that you didn’t stick to your word, again. This is a pattern now, not just a possibility.

Everything is starting to feel flimsy and hanging on a thread. We barely see each other and in the meantime, you can’t seem to communicate with me on a regular basis.

I’m frustrated, annoyed and feel disrespected.

While in Mexico, my request for more communication was met with an “I was busy” the very next day. And then, nothing.

I responded and asked if we can talk about it? Nothing. I come back to LA, nothing.

And then the heaviness of silence filled the room, cutting off all oxygen and slowly killing what we built. Crumbling every bit of potential we had.

After a week of absolutely nothing, I lost my mind and pleaded with you to treat me like a human being and tell me where we stand. Many hours later you texted me that you can’t be the partner I require.

Just like that, it ended as quickly as it started, confirming what I had always feared from you: that I was disposable to you.

But you’re a runner.

And that is exactly what you did.


Writer. Author of Dear Debt. Host of the Mental Health and Wealth Show. Founder of Lola Retreat. Let’s talk money. Support me:

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Melanie Lockert

Writer. Author of Dear Debt. Host of the Mental Health and Wealth Show. Founder of Lola Retreat. Let’s talk money. Support me: