For me, the part of closeness that makes me panic inside isn’t the touch or the warmth… it’s the vulnerability it demands.

It’s when someone sees too much, the quiet fears, the soft underbelly, the parts I usually keep guarded.
It’s the thought that once they’re that close… they could walk away, and take a piece of me with them.

Closeness is beautiful, but it also means:

There’s nowhere to hide.

Your guard can’t protect you.

Love becomes something that can be lost.

That’s where the panic hums, not because I don’t want to be close, but because closeness means being seen without armor.