If I look deep within the innermost of my soul, deep into the darkest deepest crevasses of my heart, I’m scared. I’m scared of relationships. I’m scared of commitment I suppose.
I’m scared that I will fail the person I have come to love deeply. I’m scared that I will fall short. That I won’t show love as deeply as I feel it. That love won’t be received as deeply as I seek to covey it.
I’m scared that I will never be all that I would want to be for the person I have grown to love so deeply.
And so this friction exists within my naked quintessential quiddity. Wanting to love deeply, to love unconditionally. To strive, to work, to built something marvelous and grand and long lasting. And in the same breath I fear.
And so I wrestle within my secret self. I wrestle with these two seemingly contrariant forces that hold equilibrium within the recesses of my heart. The confluence of two seemingly opposite forces – the one feeding vulnerability, openness, and acceptance while the other breeds fear, doubt, consternation, and trepidation. One drawing me in, one pushing me out, never feeling like I have the panoptic panorama of all that could be.
I fear to love, because I fear to hurt that which I love the most.