I fear getting involved with another woman. Why? I gave three years of my life to a girl that I believed was the only one for me. Turns out that for two thirds of the relationship she had put up a facade of happiness. I know I played my part in this but it couldn’t have been ALL my fault, right? If I knew that answer I wouldn’t be writing this. I’m now uncertain of my ability to love. This may come from me having told her countless times how I feel, to simply have her analyze every action I’ve ever made within the relationship and use them as weapons to rip apart every last inch of my psyche. For months now, I’ve lived inside my mind, demonizing myself and constructing a new ego that agrees with her words of me. My fear is that someone will get close to me just to be disappointed in every aspect of being with me. Just as she was. What scares me more is that I will fall in love again just to have them not share the same feelings. I can’t be more clear that my fear is not to let someone in, but to let them in just to hurt them or be hurt and confused just as I am right now. There is a quote that reads, “You have stabbed me 1,000 times and then acted as if you were the one bleeding.” Guilt. It’s a dirty emotion but it is all too present as I think of that quote. Had I really been thrusting a blade that was my actions into her over and over? Why was I unable to realize the harm I was causing? Am I myself what I should really fear? As I search deeper into my confusion it just gets murkier. I microanalyze every single action I made in that relationship, every emotion she showed, and every reaction she had to everything I had done either for her or to her. It’s by doing this that I discover one truth. I was in the dark. I was deceived. I spent 3 years believing that what I had found was the love that authors and poets have never been able to show on paper. A love that felt as if even if the world had come to an end, I would have lived a fulfilling life. Like I had found the key to my existence, that literally the other half of me had found me and that I was whole. A feeling id never felt. Then, in the blink of an eye, everything I once thought I knew came crumbling down on me. To this day it still feels as though I’m suffocating under the rubble of it all. My short comings, the fear that all she’s said is true, that I truly am selfish, a manipulator, a liar, the sole antagonist to her life of happiness. It’s as if My heart is a double edged sword, no matter the angle you approach it, if you get close to it you’ll always get cut. It’s so easy to focus on her and realize how hard she was clinging on, as if it was for her life. But I can’t help but wonder why. There were so many times she could have ended her charade. Yet she chose to continue playing me like a fool. What were her intentions in doing so? If she was waiting for me to change, does that mean that I failed her once again? It wouldn’t surprise me as failure seems to be the headline of my life. It follows me around like my own shadow. And just as my shadow, I feel as if failure will always be an unavoidable part of who I am. With no end to this internal battle in sight, I desire to conclude today’s writing and go to sleep. But even while asleep, I’m not safe from myself. My dreams will continue to haunt me. Conscious or not, I will never escape from this prison of my own identity. Solitude. Is this the answer? By avoiding putting myself in the position to fail again, will I truly find peace. Khalid Gibron once said, “A life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.” Just like the blossoms of a tree makes it a beautiful sight to see, is love what makes life beautiful? How could something that hurts countless people over and over be the essence to a beautiful life? When does the damage finally fade and allow our lives to bloom? Is it after heartbreak has torn away every shred of self approval, that we are able to discover the beauty in our lives. I can’t accept this as the truth. If this was the case, then we’d be nothing to love. If we no longer love ourselves, what can someone else possibly love about us. If we chase love, heartbreak is inevitable, and our self approval will fade. With each heartbreak, our roots grow weaker, and we begin to wilt. By choosing solitude, I can avoid heartbreak, and love what’s left of myself. I may not blossom, but I will also not wilt. Is love worth putting ourselves in the position to get damaged? I can’t give an answer to that question right now. But I’ll leave you with my truth; The love I thought I found no longer exists, and all that I’m left with is pain, guilt, self loathing, and regret. So is chasing love worth it? That’s a choice we all must make on our own, but as of right now, with the way I feel, nothing not even love, is worth the wounds I’ve received and can not close.