To the one afraid to love,

When are you going to let someone lavishly love you?

I think we’ve been trained by society that in order to be happy we have to be in love. What I don’t understand is why that love has to be defined as someone loving me romantically?

I spent a lot of my teen years thinking love was a façade, a spectacle to make others see you as being okay, to convince them of your sanity and happiness.

It wasn’t until I was 19 that I started to feel that twinge in my chest whenever I was around him. It’s funny because I still get butterflies every time I walk up the steps to his apartment.

I’m terrified of how easily he loves me and I still have that fear that it’s not genuine even though I can feel it in the walls of my heart and the pit of my stomach and the smallest neurons in my head sending messages that he loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

I’m fighting a battle within me to fiercely defend the familiar— that guys only want a particular thing from me. So now with him, I feel the dysfunctional.

Why on Earth did I ever let someone loving me become the dysfunctional?

So the question remains:

Why are you going to let someone lavishly love you?

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