this is kind of old. but fairly recent. i don't know the difference sometimes.





feel the pain teaching us how much more we can take, reminding us how far we’ve come. let the pain burn away from our hearts, we have time to start all over again.

i spent over a year denying this. i spent a year telling myself that it wasn’t possible to fall in love again, telling myself that i didn’t have time to start again. i said that the pain didn’t teach me that i could take more, but that i was at my limit, a breaking point with relationships. i thought i had experienced something incredible, but it turned out to be fraud. it broke every part of me, and then i was lost in this swirl of cynicism. and in truth, it really was just my adolescent oblivion believing it was flawless, when in actuality, it was so full of faults it was bursting at the seams. but because of that, i didn’t think i could love anyone again, i didn’t think anyone could love me; at least not in the utterly complete way i needed. they could love parts of me, the concept of me, but not what was actually there.

i didn’t think i could be loved…or maybe i didn’t want to be.

but...
things have changed. dramatically. my heart is still there telling me no, but my head is reasoning that maybe it’s time. it’s a battle between my desires and my logic, my stubbornness and my ability to open up. what if my heart keeps telling me to be selfish and alone and unloved? it’s not best for anyone, but when you fall so far down and realize how fragile you are, parts of you, parts of me, start to say that it’s better to stay cracked than transformed and shattered again.

but my heart is new. my soul is just bruised. and you’re slowly healing me.

because of that, i’m scared out of my mind, like normal. i’m scared because i know i start to question things: if i deserve this, if i’m ready for this, if it’s really as perfect as it seems. i’m scared because i don’t want to become dependent on someone again, i’m scared because i promised myself that i wouldn’t ever let anyone mean that much to me again. all i wanted was to travel the world and wear skinny jeans and love jesus and move to africa. i wanted to do it alone…but only because i thought it would be easier. i wanted to do it alone because i didn’t think anyone would go with me.

and i’m scared to hold his hand.
i’m scared to hold his heart.
i’m scared to lay in bed with him all day.
i’m scared to spend every second of my free time talking to him.
i’m scared to have perfect weekends together.
i’m scared to think about him all day, every day.
i’m scared to be set free.
i’m scared of being spoiled.
i’m scared of being held.
i’m scared of sweet surprises.
i’m scared of a potential future.
i’m scared that i feel safe.
i’m scared that he will prove all of my ideas about love wrong.
i’m scared that i will admit these fears to him.
i’m scared that maybe i’m not scared at all, but just caught off guard.
or maybe i’m scared that i’m more scared than i can admit.
i’m scared i will be ripped apart when least expected.
i’m scared that i don’t ever want to be without him.

can you lie next to her and give her your heart as well as your body? and can you lie next to her and confess your love as well as your folly? and can you kneel before the king and say i’m clean?

essentially, i think i…_____ you.