woman holding green leaf

The Truth Is That I’m Scared To Fall In Love Again

Am I even making any progress?

When I stay up late at night, even when I get little to no sleep, you never fail to find a way to cross my mind. I always try to convince myself that you played and fooled me, so it’s easier to despise you and forget about you, yet my mind just converts these negative thoughts into dreamy images of you, and instead of having it convinced that you are nothing but a nightmare, it’s able to convince me that you’re not that bad at all.

And it has been really difficult. Trying to fight back the memories and the feelings we once shared. Trying to forgive and forget you at the same time. It’s all just a constant battle with what I really want for myself, and I dread it. I hate to still be in pain when the person who caused this is already too carelessly happy, living his life beyond the misfortunes of his past. It’s a pity how I’ve always loved too much so that when I’m left behind, I have nothing left to offer to myself because I let people take away all that I am and all I am able to share.

The love we give is never equal to the love we receive, and by now I should have enough encounters with the wrong ones to finally accept that fact. Not just because it explains the pain we feel, but because it’s the most practical thing to do to put an end to suffering. Let’s face the reality of life and love—it’s a constant battle. On a positive or a negative note, we keep questioning who loves who more because the weight of love never seems to be balanced on a scale. Does it?

I hate how every night, as well as every waking day, I have to keep questioning why I have to be the one who endures the most pain when all I ever did was give all I could to someone to make them feel worthy of being loved. Why is it more painful for the one who only ever did good things? Why is pain greater for the one who has loved the most?

The truth is that I am scared—no, I am terrified. I currently have too many questions left unanswered to risk falling in love again.

My inability to feel gives me the ability to write.

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