In another life, I refused to be driven by fear and I experienced great suffering because of it. However, I was never quite sure how to live any other way. For all of my folly, for all of the devastation I have been so slow to recover from, I was never sure I would do things much differently. And therein lies the rub that contributed to my eventual demise.
For whatever reason I couldn’t release the hope in the feel of finally getting things right. I could almost taste the bliss of finally taking a chance and reaping extravagant reward from a person who understood and appreciated what it is I had to offer. Though I understood the concept of fear, I could never allow myself to be driven by it and I could never encourage others in it. I used to believe that in making ourselves vulnerable to one another we are able to find our freedom. I always wanted to dive in; consume and devour. I always wanted to taste, touch, feel everything, savor everything, believe in everything. I can’t do it this time—this time something has happened to me. I am naked and exposed, I’m no longer free in it. I used to be able to see the beauty and potential in most things, now I can only scout out inevitable pain.
It was a slow change that took place in me while I wasn’t paying attention to myself. A friend came to me asking for my unadulterated love advice; I looked at her, unblinking, and told her to run away. I told her to save her herself, protect herself and to run. The safest place for your heart is solitude. The words stumbled out of my mouth and came as a shock even to me. I once had an elderly woman I hold in high regard tell me that, “Men can only love up to a certain point,” to explain why I had been abandoned in a relationship. I rejected her opinion because I recognized that it came from that place of fear, of hurting, of self-preservation. Now here I am broken and selfish after one failed love too many—giving sorrowful advice with a look of trepidation in my eyes.
We should be more careful how we treat once valued love relationships before they come to an end, it can be too easy to snuff out whatever is left of someone’s already dimming light. My light is gone. Now I am fear and I am darkness—I don’t know how to emerge and how to enjoy something new and possibly great. I am stripped of my ability to fight for your affection.
I only wish you the will to fight for mine—if you think you have it in you.