In life, I promised, I loved, I gave. But at what cost? How many have trampled my heart and shattered all my hopes of life together so that I am also closed today? Too, unfortunately.
Each pass had the effect of a bulldozer. And although the celibate in me has always gained the upper hand, I have suffered too many disappointments. The damage is now considerable.
The conclusion is clear: I no longer know how to love. My artichoke heart has bled too much. My female body is abandoned.
I hide behind a fierce desire to remain single, but it’s only a pretext. I’m too afraid to suffer and find myself trapped by my feelings. I inflict on myself loneliness and celibacy so as not to have to face love always finding improbable reasons not to let go.
- I no longer know how to love without being afraid.
- I no longer know how to take advantage of what presents itself without instantly fear of losing it.
- I no longer know how to give without censoring myself for fear of scaring people away.
- I no longer know how to love without being terrified of not being so much in return.
My heart is overflowing with what I forbid myself to let go.
It’s so many missed opportunities.
So much love locked away.
So many moments of happiness that I stupidly forbid myself.
I’m angry with my exes who ruined me when I had so much to give, who bluntly rebuffed me because I dared to reveal my feelings.
I have a rage against life that never puts the right people in my path.
I hate myself because I have forgotten my innocence and my capacity to love, and I no longer trust myself.
Time is passing. I butterfly. I see my friends declaring themselves as a couple and I envy them …
I want them to be able to take responsibility as such, to grant each other this mutual trust and to love each other fully in the eyes of all.
Sometimes I dream that everything is going to change, that the padlock will pop when I least expect it.
And then one fine morning when I was locked up warm in my armored bubble hyper-effective against feelings …
After having shouted loud and clear that never again, out of the question, not even in a dream …
I wake up and realize that my bubble has a problem: it is no longer airtight …
I let a feeling pass. And now he’s here. He tells me to take off that too heavy and ugly armor and accept what is coming and let go of what is going.
I’m afraid. I do not know. I don’t even want to talk about it I’m so freaking out.
I wait. I listen to my closest friends who tell me to move on and not to look too far. To listen to my heart. He sings a sweet melody, it’s so tempting. I want to listen to this opportunity that is scratching at my door. I really want to give it a place.
In the end, I lower my guard because refusing to love for fear of suffering is like refusing to live for fear of dying.
