Fragile

It’s fragile, this thing that we have. Sometimes I feel we are strong enough to survive anything and other times I think that we only have so long until we shatter and that will be the end of us.

Something happened over the weekend that I probably shouldn’t write too much about here, but it made us both aware just how quickly we could be over. Thankfully I worked through it and he forgave me, but I can’t forget the look in his eyes when he said “this is what I’m afraid of, that I could lose you so easily.” And I realised that perhaps he could, and I cried like a baby. I was scared for both of us.

Today it is my turn to realise how easily I could lose him. He has so many admirers that I often cannot bear to watch. I managed about 24 hours following all the things that get tweeted at him over the course of the day before my insecurity ate me up and I realised that for my sanity I need to not know. I feel that they resent me. They see him and how amazing he is, how romantic and poetic and deeply devoted to me he is, and then when they see what he is devoted to, they see… me. And what am I? Scared to be vulnerable, only sometimes able to express how much I love him. I’m still working through a lifetime of not being worthy of love and affection and sometimes he is so much to me that I shut away, incapable of processing just how wonderful he is. And I think they see someone who is cold, someone who doesn’t appreciate him when they would, someone who mistreats him for trying to be loving. Someone completely unworthy of being the object of his affection.

What they don’t see is how hard I am trying to learn to let him love me. How hard I try to be someone who deserves him. You think I don’t see how amazing he is and wonder every day what on earth he is doing with me? How much I want desperately to feel that it is only his approval that matters. My biggest fear is that someday he will listen to them and instead of saying “I’m very lucky,” he will say “you know what, I’d be better off with someone who appreciates me more,” and then he will leave me. All I have done to earn their scorn is have him love me, and yet I carry it around with me like a noose, just waiting for the moment when it will hang me for not being “good enough” for him.

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