Noah's Suffocating Ark

Sometimes, I have to clutch my sanity. Desperately. Hungrily. Manically. It’s like holding onto the last fraying thread of a lifeline, forcing myself to stay steady, to remain rooted in place. Stuck to my feet. Glued to the floor. Because if I don’t, I’m going to lose it. And when I do, it won’t be pretty.

Because here’s what gets me: after everything—everything I’ve forgiven, everything I’ve begged forgiveness for (even when I didn’t have to)—how is it still unfair for me to feel this way? To pull back? To act like I need space?

Let me explain, because I know a lot of this must sound cryptic, and I’m the worst at giving the full picture up front. But this...this needs to come out. I need to say it, and soon enough, you’ll understand why.

Let’s rewind a few months. I met a guy online. Yes, online—on some ridiculously niche dating app that I’m too mortified to name (and yes, I’m still shamelessly using it). He was interested, we matched, and things just took off.

Less than twenty-four hours after meeting him, we had called each other. He is a talker. Very talkative. I’m not. I’m a writer—not a texter. I prefer to dissect and dictate my words, move them around, catch flaws, etc. Conversations are not easy for me. I get misinterpreted a lot. And he knew that from the beginning. He understood that. He promised to be the one to carry our conversations. He promised, not me. I didn’t ask him to make that promise. I never asked him to compromise. He made that decision. He chose to stay, to proceed when he knew that I would not be the one to speak.

And that was fine.

A week later, we were official. This was a bit much for me. Too much. I have never had a real relationship, let alone one of this caliber. He wanted to talk constantly—eat on the phone, sleep on the phone, die on the phone. It was constantly him and me—and I had just met him.

But again, it was fine.

Now, it’s been a month. We’ve argued many times. So many times I can barely keep count. Why do we argue? Because of him. And this isn’t in an “I can do no wrong” kind of way—I know that I can. I have. But I can accept when I’m wrong. He can’t. He likes to argue, pick on the smallest things, and then go on tangents about them. This is toxic. There’s always an issue somewhere. Sometimes, I feel like he’s trying hard to create issues.

I fall asleep? He’s upset. I didn’t update him on what I was doing? He’s upset. I didn’t let him watch me have a panic attack and break down? He questions why he’s even there. It’s always something. And that wouldn’t be a problem if we could communicate.

Another reason we argue is because he expects things from me that I had disclaimed from the beginning. My favorite example: speaking. He’s known from the start that I am not a talker. I do not converse well. I never have. I specifically chose a school far away from home to learn to talk to people—to force myself out of my comfort zone and grow. I do it often. But when I’m with someone I care about, or am comfortable with, I don’t want to keep having to do that. So I do not talk well. I just don’t. Yet somewhere down the line, he blows up on me every time I don’t speak. And when we argue, he gets even more upset, because he expected me to change.

That’s where most problems lie. Certain things in a relationship should evolve—but my will to speak is not one of them. If I have something to say, I will say it. Unnecessary conversation is messy, unorganized, and pointless. He will expect me to speak while I’m watching TV. I can’t always hear him. So I’ll turn off the TV to give him attention—but he’s playing his game anyway.

One day, I was on a call with him on my laptop and my friend on my phone. I muted my laptop to chat with my friend, and he got upset. We had a huge argument. I’m pretty sure I blocked him. He was jealous that I was happy talking to my friend. My best friend isn’t the one who forces me to open up when I’m upset. She waits. She lets me come to her when I’m ready, comfortable. She has never blamed me for things that aren’t my fault. She doesn’t force feelings on me. She doesn’t tell me I hate her even when I assure her I don’t. She doesn’t get upset at everything I do.

I walk on eggshells around this man, yet he’s jealous of my friend—a safe haven for me.

What needs to change in a relationship is everything about him. He’s clingy. We live miles apart, never met, never touched—and yet he thrives on me. He cannot live without me. He must see my face, talk to me, claim me—or he won’t have a reason to live. I don’t want a man like this. I want a man who wants to survive because of me, not one who can’t survive without me. How should I be expected to carry on a relationship with a man who says he does not see a future for himself when I see a clear future for myself?

He lacks empathy, patience, and the willingness to listen and understand. This isn’t just with me; it’s with the world. Because he’s been hurt before, he feels entitled to hurt others.

His immaturity shows in his job. He complains about his low-end work, is late, slacks, scrolls through his phone, and refuses to improve his situation. He wants to be a secretary but has no experience. He’s picky, citing a bad back, bad ankle, and even a splinter. He won’t try to gain experience. He dreams of marrying me and starting a family but won’t stabilize himself.

This is why I can’t truly give him grace. I’ve stayed, I’ve tried, but I’m done. I’m tired of being unappreciated. I can accept his flaws, but I don’t deserve to crash out sometimes too.

Finals week came, and he got mad because I was studying. I had planned to go to the gym afterward. He wanted updates. Later, he went off because I hadn’t updated him—though nothing had changed. I blocked him to protect my peace, because diffusing the situation wasn’t working. Because I don’t have time, mental capacity, or words. And yet, I’m the bad guy for protecting my sanity.