Often, I find that I fear myself. When I dated Terry, I was convinced that what was really wrong was that I feared what I was capable of. Half the time, I don't do much of anything that I'm capable of which is a good or bad thing, depending on the situation and how you look at it. I may miss a lot of opportunities or chances at getting close to people. But that's the problem. I feel as though bad things happen when I get close to people. Of course there's good things too and a lot of my relationships can be noted as successful but then why am I scared?
No one's perfect. I know that. Shit, everyone knows that. But, what if I hurt someone irreparably? What if I hurt myself? What if I become obsessed and become that weird girl yet again? What if I ignore the feelings until its too late? What if I push the feelings too hard and get bored?
I haven't felt alone in a long time.
I hated typing that sentence. In fact, I'm simultaneously thinking, "Fuck her, Jacks! She doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. You don't need a boyfriend (or girlfriend for that matter)! All you need is you and your friends. Who gives a fuck about sappy love?"
And that side of me is equally correct. But I know she's speaking out of fear. Fear that I'll wreck something, that I won't be realistic, that I'll become obsessed.
God. That's the real fucking problem. Obsessions. It makes me feel disgustingly evil how obsessive I get. When it happens, I fall into this hole and no matter how important I know the sun and the ground above me is good and right, I just want to curiously burrow further and further, crawling beneath the earth until I'm covered in dirt, going so far that I find the skeletons in the proverbial closet and uncover a marvelous treasure.
Snapping back to reality is like that awkward chapter in a novel after the main character has done something huge and needs to move on to the next thing but can't because, well you've got to have the boring build-up.
Even if the build-up and the climax aren't reality at all.
XOXO
Jacks
