Who doesn’t want their hand to be held? Who wouldn’t want good morning texts and goodnight kisses? But somewhere along the way, I’ve grown fearful. I’ve grown a little bit wary. And a little bit apprehensive. I’ve built a wall around my heart and push love away like it’s the plague.
I’ve been lied to. Used. Cheated on. Ditched for my best friend. Nothing is new to me anymore, nothing surprises me. I stayed single for almost 2 years after my almost 7 year relationship ended. I was determined I was not going to get hurt again, ever.
Here’s where shit gets real dark.
I’m not really interested in going on date after date with one random dude to the next. I don’t like small talk. I don’t do the whole ‘one night stand’ thing that my generation is obsessed with. First dates make me want to throw up, to be quite honest. My anxiety literally goes into full “flight” mode whenever someone even whispers the words ‘first date’. Also, I’m SUPER terrified of getting kidnapped/accidentally going on a first date with a serial killer.
Can you tell I’m an anxious person yet?
I let my mind ruin any possibility of love. I let my thoughts and my worries ruin the butterflies and the giddy feelings. I let my anxiety take the wheel. And I let it drive, while I sit back and close my eyes.
I run the moment before anything good can begin. I run in the other direction when someone is interested me. I run when I catch feelings. I shut the door on any opportunity that I see. And I don’t know why.
I don’t know why I’m my worst enemy when it comes to love. I don’t know why I run. I don’t know what I’m so damn scared about. I don’t know why I take cover when someone smiles at me or asks me out.
I don’t know why I sabotaged the one thing that I deeply want. Him. It’s still him and I ruined it. I wholeheartedly believe I subconsciously done it on purpose; he loved me and I loved him, but I am terrified of love.
My friends don’t really understand. They don’t understand how I could run from something that is good. Run from someone that is good.
Maybe I’m just afraid of falling in love. Maybe, I’m just afraid of finding love, and eventually losing it. Maybe I’m scared of losing control of my own heart again. Of letting it go wild.
Or maybe I’m just petrified of not being able to handle another loss. Another lost forever. Another broken piece. Another wound written on my heart. And maybe I’m petrified of losing myself. Again.