My Anxiety Made Me Ask The Boy I Love To Give Up On Me

Tanja Heffner

We all have our moments — candor, bravery, determination, pure ecstasy, but one of the worst moments we could ever see ourselves in is fear.

Has it ever crossed your mind that love is more than just love?

Love is an abstract form of art which is indescribable. It is more than what meets the eye. It is not just about being there for each other. Love is not just about doing the things that will make someone happy. It is always more than that.

Have you ever wondered how does it really feel to fear love?

I asked the boy I love to give up on me, again. I pushed him away, again.

Every time I see him, my heart skips a beat. Every time I pass by him, I would feel these intense emotions bursting through me. Now, every time I see him, my heart still skips a beat not because of love, but because of my anxiety. I asked him again to give up on me. I left him when he was ready to come back to me. For a moment, I gave in. For a moment, I was selfish. For a moment, I was his and he was mine.

For a moment, I was genuinely happy. For a moment, I let out a genuine smile I haven’t done for months. For a moment, I felt complete, loved and absolutely happy.

But it was all just for a moment.

Loving with anxiety is like hearing a voice inside your head. It is hearing your own voice telling you that you don’t deserve the people in your life. It is hearing your own voice telling yourself that you are worthless. Loving with anxiety makes you want to push people away so that you could save them from your destructible self. I was scared. I was terrified of the happiness I felt. I was afraid of its permanence. I was afraid of its consequence.

My anxiety is my second language.

It is already an impulse, an instinct, a habit, to push people away just because I want to save them.

I am a ticking bomb, slowly crawling to its explosion.

I needed to save him from me. I am not worth the risk he is taking. I am not worthy of his time nor his love.

What kills me the most is the fact that he cannot see past through the stubbornness of my heart. He is tired of being constantly pushed to the side. He told me I was a coward. He told me I had no right to act like the victim. It is as if I have no right to be in pain or to even cry.

He hates me and I know I deserve it.

All I could say is I am sorry. I am sorry for hurting him. I am sorry for us and everything we lost. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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