| Current mood: |  discontent |
| Current music: | How You Remind Me // Nickelback |
I don't like fighting. I never have. I don't like my false sense of security to be blown away. I don't like being ugly. I don't like everything I know, everything I feel, everything I am to be exposed all together at one moment.
But it happened. The moment he said those words, everything was gone and I was left open. Open to pick apart.
I don't like not being confident in my capabilities. In myself. But I've never been good enough. I've simply never been enough. For anyone. So what on earth gives me the right to concieve the notion that I will be now? And for someone who is as unbelievably and utterly amazing as he. Love? A ceremony? A name? A ring? What gives me the right to think that I will forever and always be the only one he will ever need; ever desire?
Insecurity comes with love, that's a given. But when you've never truly known it, the overwhelming depth it can have, insecurity becomes crippling. It's a mainstay; it's the part of you that you never like to acknowledge is there as much as it. I go through every day, terrified that just the right person is going to cross our path and everything I hold closest to me will be gone. Forever.
I know he loves me. I believe in his love, I believe in us, in the love that we share. But there's a part of me, a disgustingly large part, that's been bruised, abused, battered, torn, and broken. That part of me is just waiting for that day, just waiting to say, 'I told you so.'
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