At this moment I am happy. This, quite honestly, is terrifying.
In my experience, happy leads to really happy. And really happy leads to misery.
There are usually some twists and turns between really happy and misery: ups and downs, ebbs and flows. However, in the end, happy will without doubt lead to misery. Call me pessimistic, call me cynical, call me guarded…but I call me safe.
It’s hard to get your heart broken if you don’t have one. I’ve spent a lot of time hurting, and I don’t want to do it anymore. I’ve been doing everything I can to ensure that I protect myself.
I have met people and gone out. I make sure that everyone I see knows that I have children, but that’s as far as that goes. I don’t give their names or ages. I don’t show pictures or tell stories. I had one person at my house and we were playing around with Spotify. When they went to use my computer, my desktop wallpaper was a picture of my oldest. I immediately grabbed the laptop away from him. It’s easier to stay detached if I keep every aspect of my life separate.
I don’t talk about my ex. I don’t talk about other relationships. I don’t talk about my family, or my friends, or my emotions. I mean, this is probably why these “relationships” don’t last very long. I get that. I can psychoanalyze myself better than anyone. But I’m not going to let someone in just so that I can get hurt again. That really doesn’t interest me.
Against my better judgment, I’ve let someone in. I have talked about my kids; I’ve told stories and shown pictures. I’ve used their names instead of calling them “the big one” and “the little one.” I’ve talked about my dad, my ex, and yeah…even my emotions. I’ve done it without realizing, and I keep doing it. As much as I know I should stop, I don’t. I actually want to let this person in. I want them to know these things about me. I want to know things about them.
How the fuck did that happen?
Yes, I know that I am actually human. As much as I try not to be, I am a real live human being. I have thoughts and feelings and emotions. I want what everyone wants: someone to make them feel special, and wanted, and important. I just don’t want to want that.
I want to have my wall. I want to keep my humour shield. I want to have this force shield that no one can get through. Yet somehow, someone got through. And now I can’t stop feeling.
I feel like a 16-year-old. Does he like me? How much? Currently, I’m only seeing him: is he only seeing me? Does he want to only see me? Does he think about me? What are we to each other? It’s so overwhelming even though I know it shouldn’t be. I’m overthinking it of course, as I do every facet of my life.
He’s good to me. He’s kind, he’s sweet, and he’s just…lovely. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel special, and wanted, and important. He holds my face when he kisses me. He holds doors for me. He kisses my forehead when I lean into him. It feels amazing.
So why, then, can I not just enjoy this moment? Why am I so close to running away and never seeing him again? Am I so afraid of getting my heart broken that I won’t even try? I just need to tell my stupid brain to shut the fuck up.
Shut the fuck up, brain. No one asked you.