I don’t know how to love without flinching.
I don’t know how to trust something that hasn’t hurt me yet.
I met someone here once. I gave them a piece of me I should have protected. They hurt me. Not in a way that leaves bruises, but in the way that makes you doubt your worth and replay every word you ever said. When they walked away, I didn’t just lose them. I lost myself again.
Now there is someone new.
They stepped into the aftermath, not the beginning. They didn’t break me. They just see what’s left. And somehow that feels worse.
They don’t raise their voice. They don’t disappear. They don’t make me earn their attention. And instead of relief, I feel fear.
Because I am still emotional whiplash. Still good days and bad nights. Still learning how to stay instead of shutting down. Still unlearning the belief that love has to hurt to be real.
They didn’t ask to inherit my damage. They didn’t sign up to carry the weight of someone else’s choices. And I wonder if it’s selfish to let them love me while I am still this fractured.
Some days I lean in. Other days I brace for the moment they decide I am too much. Too broken. Too complicated to keep choosing.
I want to be soft with them. I want to be fair. I want to love them without making them pay for what someone else did.
But the truth is I am still learning what safe feels like. Still learning that calm does not mean indifference. Still learning that being chosen does not always come with an expiration date.
I don’t know if it’s fair to love someone while I am still breaking and rebuilding at the same time.
All I know is this.
They are here.
And I am still here too.
And for someone who learned to leave first, that might be the bravest thing I have ever done.