I’m Not Afraid Of Loving You, I’m Afraid You’ll Break My Heart

‘Afraid? What do you mean afraid?’

You asked me that a few seconds after you told me about the way you loved the way I laughed and how my hair falls into place almost perfectly and how you thought you loved me. I gave the simplest reason as to why I didn’t believe you — I was afraid. I wish you hadn’t asked why however, in fact, I wish you had never told me the way you say me. A reply was what was supposed to be on my mind but all I could think of was the fact that I’ve come to learn that the universe’s decisions never fall in my favor, and you did. It brought me back a couple of months, to a boy with bright eyes just like you did.

He was my first everything. I had kissed boys before but none of them made me feel sparks like he did. He was my first drunk call, the first boy to wipe my tears away right before he kissed my demons away, the first boy to call me at 3 am and surprise me with chips when my period cramps kept me up, the first boy whom I watched the sunrise with via skype, the first boy who made me feel the highest and the lowest things anyone could ever feel in this life. You see, I had shared so many of my precious firsts with him, I was far from ready for our lasts.

Oh my, you should’ve seen me. If you were there on the nights I would stare at my phone for hours on end waiting for him to text me, or if you were there when his song would play on shuffle and I would breakdown, I don’t think you would ever look at me as a complete person. You would take back the time you told me you admired my unbreakable spirit, knowing that it’s more fragile than you could ever imagine.

There are days when you feel low, and for some stupid reason we want to bring ourselves lower. I think it’s the small pieces of you in me, always wanting me to feel less than what I actually am. So you voluntarily play his song or look at pictures of the two of you or wear the clothes he left with you, anything to remind you of him, expecting yourself to breakdown. And after a while, you don’t.

That my love, is called the healing. We all have one person who we will never get over, but we all learn to smile and laugh and enjoy life after them, all with them in the back of your head. Just like a wound leaving a scar.

Soon, you’ll go a day without thinking of them. A day turned into days, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and I found myself more aware of the little joys in life. I never really noticed the way my dad looked at my mom whenever she’d look away, or the way my friends moods would change almost immediately when they noticed something wrong.

It had been 3 long months of pain than healing, and you came along. I always said that I wanted a new one, a new boy to play with my hair and to make me smile like an idiot, but I didn’t know if I was ready for you.

You fell into my lap like rain into open windows. When I met you, I only imagined amazing things with you, I never saw me crying over losing you, or me tearing myself apart just to fit the empty spaces of my heart, but I soon realized that I never did with the last one either.

I know this won’t last, because nothing at our age lasts forever. Us changing our minds on people change like the season, and circumstance has given us an opportunity to make others feel it in new, different, and utterly painful ways.

I’m not ready to see you online and active and not message me. I’m not ready to see your name slowly move down my favorites list until you are no longer on it. I’m simply not ready to go back and read our messages with tears in my eyes.

My love, I’m afraid. I’m terrified of you breaking me or even worse, me breaking you.