DREAD OF LOVE

 

             It’s late but I’m still awake. Thoughts are running in my mind. I do not know how to put those thoughts in words. I’m confused, I’m alone, and I’m scared.

 

I’m scared, so scared to fall in love. It’s not that I’m already falling, but there is something going on my life which puts me at high risk of falling, again.

 

For me, falling is equal to failing. Failing is getting hurt. I don’t want to get hurt again that’s why I don’t want to fall.

 

The love my friends are giving me is already enough, and I ask nothing else but for them to stay with me. But can I resist love if it’ll knock on my door?

 

Of course I want to be loved and I want to love but it’ll be like putting me at the end of a cliff; one wrong move and I’ll fall down and stumble on the ground. I fell a couple of times already; it was really painful but it’s just a matter of accepting. The hard part is rising up and climbing back again. The agony of forgiving, forgetting and restoring yourself is never easy.

 

 

The reason I’m so invincible is because of my fear. I fear love and I’m not sure if I can bet my heart on it again. I keep my guards up to protect myself and not get hurt again. I want to be more cautious that if ever I’ll put myself in a dreadful thing, at least I can hold on to something sure.

 

I’ve been left behind a couple of times and I don’t want to be left alone again. It’s hard to find yourself back. So why would I allow myself to be at risk of getting lost?

 

Of course I don’t want to hurt or leave someone, but why am I the one being left behind? Why am I the one always getting hurt? They always say the word “love” and “forever,” but those words do not really exist, because if they do then where are they? I’m not blaming history for my being this way, but the past had a lot to do of what I am today. Trauma! I was hurt, I bled, I was wounded, I healed, but the scars, which remind me of the ugly side of “love” (as they call it), are still present.

 

Love is a sin. Love is a torn. Love is a knife. Love is hurt. Love is just a word. Love is just an illusion. Love is never true. Love does not exist. Love is a mystery which I do not have the courage to explore.

 

So how can I love if I’m scared of it? How can I feel it if I do not believe its existence? How can I give it when I’m keeping my invincibility?