guarded;

After the end of my previous relationship, I left my reins in the hands of another. Blinded by the belief that things would somehow get better and I would actually be content with what's left for me. I was fine for a while. But all those sharp and often unnecessary constraints have clearly left their marks. The scars don’t show physically but they burn with a relentless throb.

As the time passes, the dull ache of sadness turns into something much worst. It grows into a fiery spite that burns itself into a constant reminder of whose decision and mistake it clearly is. Because in the end, it is nobody. Nobody that is, but myself.

People come into your life because you let them in, whether or not they choose to leave, is out of your control.

I have this dark place of doubt that everyone else I meet will leave (too). When everything is going well, I find myself waiting for disaster, for something to come in and take it all away.

Not knowing makes my mind run in circles. One minute I'm telling myself the risk isn't worth it, and the next I'm convinced I have nothing to lose. 

Where is the right way to go? 

Each step I take is full of more and more apprehension, and this fear of loving, being loved, and being left again consumes me.