Will someone ever love me?

*takes mic* Hello people!! I'm excited about today's post because, i will be introducing a guest writer. She is talented but, lazy like me. I'm happy Toyole's first completed story will be on this blog. You better encourage her with your comments.  I kid but, we will apreciate your comment(s).  Dont forget to share. Now, let me leave you to enjoy the story...

I read books, blog posts, short stories about love and think to myself “I can’t wait to fall in love; I can’t wait to feel like that.” I listen to songs about love especially the ones sung by heartbroken guys and think “I so want to be loved that much.” Really who doesn’t want to be loved like The Script in The Man Who Can’t Be Moved or like Bruno Mars in It Will Rain or like John Legend in All Of Me.

He’s almost perfect for me. He makes me laugh, he listens ad he talks too. And not just empty flirtations, but the serious stuff too, he can really hold up conversations about anything I throw at him. He teases me, a lot. Nothing we talk about is ever awkward and I mean nothing. He has this way of making every potential uncomfortable conversation seem normal. He gets my sarcasm, even over texts and he thinks I’m funny. He’s stubborn and proud a little like I am, although he thinks I’m worse. He’s tall, dark and handsome. He has a beard, I find beards so sexy. I like how it brushes against my skin when he hugs me.

He sounds kind of perfect right? Yet I find myself running. He wants to label and define this thing, us; what we are. He’s mushy and expressive, the kind of guy who wears his heart out on his sleeve, I cringe from that. He asks me why, to explain why I’m running, why I pull away each time he draws me near. I’m lost for words; I say words are not my thing, not like they are for him. I hope it sates him for now because I’m not sure I know the answers myself. 

He asks lightly, “Remi, what are you afraid of?” I know he’s asking for more than spiders, but I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t know how to tell him I’m scared of being hurt, that I don’t know how to be vulnerable and that I’m not sure I want to know. I’ve read of the pain and the rawness of the downside of loving someone and losing them. I know I bruise deeply, I’m scared of pain and I’m not sure if I could ever recover from that. I know, I know, dramatic much? 

I realize now that the question is not if someone will ever love me so much, it’s if I will ever let anyone, if I will ever be completely vulnerable and open to that kind of love. The kind of love that threatens to tear one apart with joy and pain at times, and yet so addictive. Or so they say. Sometimes I wonder if I’m better off just wishing and pining for it.