You’re afraid of being loved. No…you’re afraid of not being loved. You’re afraid of giving, committing all you are to one singular soul and receiving half or nothing at all. You’re afraid you’ll grow close, become dependant and then one day be left cold and abandoned. You’re afraid of believing, youthfully dreaming that you could be their everything and then becoming nothing. You are not afraid of the blissful beginning, you’re afraid of the agonizing end. You are afraid of the wasted time; the haunting memories; the long sleepless nights of wondering; the rush of uncontrolled emotions; the sick feeling you get when you hear their name; the wound in your heart that will never truly heal. You’ve put up a wall, bared yourself in to keep some control. Because if you shut out all possibility of love, if you keep it from getting in, you can save yourself from watching it walk out. You sit alone, watching lovers go by, afraid to risk, afraid to try.