It’s the season of grande adventure… Spinning so fast that I’m a mess of exhilarated cluelessness.
It’s a season of searching…. Of tentatively reaching my hand out to feel what my eyes are to blind to see.
It’s a season of growing… Discovering that, alongside the wonders of new found freedom, is unnecessary heartache and manipulation which, I am sad to say, has sometimes been unintentionally perpetrated by me.
It’s a season of slowing down… Of craving contact and of desperately wanting love. But it’s also a season of not wanting to take the chance of being vulnerable… Not again. Not yet.
That last part… It kind of bothers me. I am doubting the nature of potential love or attraction between myself and someone else. I am doubting that there will ever be someone who can look at me and see not only a good friend, but a good something more. I am doubting my ability to really be myself with someone. I am doubting things I do not like to doubt. I am looking straight at someone who’s very attractive and practically despised by my best friend. I see someone else who I’ve barely met, and he’s someone I want to know and am scared to want to know, because what if I talk to him in writing and he just sees me as awkward in person? I am looking at a dear friend who I have broken because I was terrified of losing him. And I am looking back on a first love, and a fatally fast attraction. It is a season of standing here. Waiting. Lonely. Wanting. Loving. It is a season of being terrified of love in a beautifully crazy way.