I don’t even know where to start. I keep looking at you. In my mind. In my heart. Everywhere. Everything gets tangled. Tangled. Tangled. I love you. But I am conflicted in my spirit. I see the love in you, raw and bright, tainted by fear.
I see someone I would protect and the same someone who has carved scars into me. Left me exposed. Vulnerable. Feeling alone. Your hands. Hands I would trust with my life. The same hands that shattered my walls. My trust. My world.
I feel the pull of you. The hunger. The ache when you’re gone. The sadness that lingers when you are not near. Everything I cannot resist. Everything that terrifies me. Love. Betrayal. Tangled. Knotted. I cannot untangle it. And still, I see myself fragile. Stubborn. Broken. Wanting.
I’ve forgiven too much. Given too much. And yet, I keep coming back. Always. Always coming back.
To you. The one who refuses to see the pain. The one who dismisses my feelings. The one who cannot see my perspective.
What is your goal? Your end game? What are we working on? Where are we going? Love cannot survive on silence and uncertainty. And yet here we are words left unspoken, feelings dismissed, truths avoided. Pauses. Withholding. Emptiness. Silence. Silence. Silence. And still I hope. Still I reach. Still I try. Why does love feel so heavy? So fragile? So conditional in your hands?
I love you. And yet I feel the weight of every word unspoken. Every hurt minimized. Every boundary crossed. I am wary. Questioning. Aching. Wondering how much I can give before there’s nothing left of me. Tired. Tired of navigating the silence, the games, the punishments. Pulling between heart and reason. Between surrender and self-protection. Learning that love alone is not enough. It takes honesty. Respect. Trust. Care. Presence. Real presence.
You use the silent treatment. To punish me. To withhold. To make me feel small. Alone. Unseen. Unheard. To make me question myself, my worth, my place in your life. To twist the space between us into emptiness, tension, doubt. To make every heartbeat heavy with uncertainty. To make me search for words, for signs, for a reason that never comes. To leave me suspended, aching, lost in the echoes of what should have been spoken.
It takes a strong heart to love. An even stronger heart to continue loving after it’s been hurt. To forgive. Again and again. To show up when it hurts to show up. Broken trust. Anger. They close a heart. Slowly. Piece by piece. Until honesty and love are found again. Until the space between us is rebuilt. Until we meet fully without fear. Without games. Without withholding.
I feel the war inside me. Heart against reason. Desire clashing with self-preservation. Love warring with caution. Hope battling doubt. The part of me that wants to surrender, to give, to trust, to believe, against the part that knows the pain, the hurt, the boundaries crossed, the part that whispers: protect yourself, stay safe, step back. Every beat of my heart is a battlefield. Every thought a skirmish between wanting you and knowing I must guard myself. I am pulled in two directions, stretched thin, exhausted, and yet I cannot let go, cannot stop caring, cannot stop feeling.
Do I step back and shield my heart, guarding the pieces of me you’ve already fractured, or do I let myself fall once more, risking everything for a love that both lifts and wounds me? When I look at you, I see the echo of myself. Shattered and whole. At the same time. And I wonder. Endlessly. Was love ever meant to feel like this?
A wound that refuses to close. A fire that scars as it warms. A fire that scars as it warms. A fire that scars as it warms.
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