I am endlessly worried that I will show you myself and you will reject me and leave. Is it not already obvious that I am broken in all the places you are meant to love me. My mind is a constant menace of distraction, causing chaos where once there was a sea of calm. Think of me as driftwood, floating hopelessly over the waterfall, crashing into the rocks below, simply because I cannot bear to hold on any longer. I have given up fighting against the tide.
I am afraid to tell you that I am a bag of empty promises, made on a day that was once full of hope. I am an endless disappointment, because you think I am stronger than I am. I am the crash landing you longed to avoid. I am the love you saved for someone better. I am a waste of time. I am an unwritten book, because the pages loom with failed attempts. I am a hopeless endeavour, we always knew wouldn’t make it in the end. I am the rule not the exception.
I fear that I keep you up at night. That my feverish thoughts push you out the door because you crave simplicity and I was made too complicated for you to ever understand. I am the loss. I am the torment. I am the whirlwind you can only handle in the calm spells, the soft moments, when I look at you with the kind of love you’ll eventually call suffocating. You won’t say it, because we both know my heart is too brittle for cold words, but you’ll think I’m unreasonable and needy. That I need to heal myself before I can be with someone else again.
I lay awake at night, cold and clammy, questioning as to whether I will ever find real love. Devine love. The hold me whilst I turn to dust in the fire I set upon myself love. The I understand love. The love that holds my fragile pieces in its hands and keeps them safe until I’m ready to glue them back together and try again love. The I am not afraid of how messy you are love.
I am broken in all the places you are meant to love me and it scares me to still wish that you would.