If you knew me, it is common knowledge that I can be fiercely solitary. That I can make the grandest of schemes for myself and find my own little place in the world without needing to be completed by anyone. I thought for so long that if we take out the risk of loving and not letting anyone hold the most vulnerable part of you, you save yourself of being utterly disappointed.
For the longest time that worked. I owned myself and my life was simple. I was not dangling under the mercy and entertainment of someone else. The troublesome discard that can be done to me is not anymore feared; no one owned my heart.
But sometimes, even when you have written at the back of your hand the ABC’s of taking care of yourself, something completely unexpected happens. Something that will break that spell, something you yourself will scratch your head over. And perhaps a week, a month or a year from now, I might again bring myself back to my old conclusion — that I should just be left alone — but a voice at the back of my head is egging me to stop being so scared and give it a try. It has long been difficult to ignore.
I am slowly putting my defenses down and little by little I am relearning things I thought I will not have to live again. Given that I haven’t done this in a while, I realized that I am slow at some things but can be unreservedly fast with others. This I think is what happens when you are slowly waking up. I’ve already made one huge slip up but I am hoping he sees me past that. I hope that if this is it, we make it through. And in case it’s just an interlude, I walk away unscathed. I’ve had too much heartache and I can only bear so much.
I pray my life and love work themselves out.