I used to be one of those girls who always fell in love, or thought so anyways lol.
I loved love. I thrived off of giving and receiving love. Every time I got my heart broken, I picked myself back up and promised not to ever let it ruin my feelings towards love. And for the most part, being hurt hasn’t made me hate love. It’s made me fear it.
I don’t go through motions and gradually love someone.
I jump out the damn plane. Right into it. And I still don’t think it’s necessarily wrong, I don’t know any other way and this is who I am. But it’s jumping out of planes with no partner, no parachute. Just jumping blindly, not really knowing where I’ll land. Will it be a deep plunge into the ocean, and I’ll swim forever? Or will I hit the ground hard, and break into a thousand pieces? That never used to scare me, I always knew I would land somewhere and be okay. But after falling into a thousand pieces too many times, I’m afraid I don’t know how to put myself back together. I’m afraid I won’t meet a doctor who’s not only educated, but gives a shit enough to get his hands dirty and mend my wounds.
As I get older, and go through different situations, I grow more afraid of love than ever before.
Let me explain. When I’m in love, I’m a mess. I become absorbed in my relationship. I adapt to my other half, without being asked to compromise. I become “we” before we are even anything solid. I dive in and I don’t protect my heart. I let my guard all the way down. I assume that if I expose my heart, someone will appreciate the gesture and treat it carefully. But I’ve learned that’s the biggest mistake.
“Never give your all”
Advice I get after every breakup. And I say “yeah” half-heartedly because to me, isn’t that the point of love? To give your all? I don’t know how to meet someone halfway. I’m an all or nothing kind of woman. And obviously, that’s frowned upon. But to hold back, would be exhausting for me. And would feel like a game, and I take love very seriously.
Maybe that’s the issue. I take it too seriously. I don’t like the talking/building stage at all. I don’t really know how to date. I know how to love someone. I know how to make someone feel special. I know how to be everything to someone without expecting anything. And maybe that’s where I’m going wrong.
Why does love have to be a game of cards? Why can’t I just show my hand and we both win?
To the men I’ve loved, you’re welcome. I hope I didn’t love you in vain, I hope the universe has some sort of karma-prize for me. I’m waiting for the day all that love comes back to me, wrapped in a bow with the words “finally, yours” written in gold.
Because even though I fear it, I accept it. I deserve it. I welcome it.
I need it.