Is it that I have an attachment to fear? Or a fear of attachment? Ever since suffering a monumental heartbreak, I can’t decide which one it is.

You see, I get scared to text too much. To say the “wrong” thing. To drive someone away with my desire for companionship.

Then again, it is, as they say, “a pain that I’m used to”. So I live inside of the fear. I drown in it. I quiet the little voice in my head that says I’m being irrational and I revel in the pain I’ve created for myself. That certain sort of head-trip, mind-fuck, guilt-ridden out of control downward spiral that only someone with a mind as talented, anxiety-addled, and depressed as mine could possibly engineer. This pain is a monster all of my own making. One composed of fear that defies all logic.

I hold my phone in my hand and I shake. I’ve just hit “send” and already I’m nauseated. What if they don’t answer back? What if they do and say they never want to hear from me again? What if they just drop me like a hot potato and never look back? No warning. No explanation. No concern for my feelings.

I’ll be left with the one persisten question that has nagged me for eternity: What did I do?

It's not that difficult

not impossible.

It's simply

writing

poetry.

Just five more words left...

I never thought I'd know true loneliness until the day my mother died. That day, that my heart, my spirit, and my life as I knew it would become one of everlasting loneliness. I am irreparably boken, suffering from a deepening hurt that intensifies with every single passing second. Everything is different now. Everything is pain. When I'm happy, I'm still sad. Because I can't share it with her. My family never calls me anymore. And I can't even pick up the phone to call her. Not on my best days and not on my worst. My loneliness is the grey sweater that I wrapped around myself in the rain of the graveyard as I watched her casket being lowered into the ground. My loneliness is the sad joke of coming down with a cold after standing out in that rain and knowing I'd never have her to take care of me again. How do I escape the grasp of this new and awful feeling that I wake to everyday? I can't snap my fingers and bring her back. I can't have the only family I've ever known and loved exist on this earthly plane ever again because she's gone forever and my heart is in pieces. She was supposed to walk me down the aisle in October at my wedding, to give me away. I've never felt more lost in my life. I'm an aimless wanderer with a heart full of despair. How do I not succumb to loneliness? How do I not simply waste away into the grand abyss, chasing after her, calling out until my voice is hoarse, trying to hear hers again?

The answer is love. Somehow, love. Surrounding me. Love. Protecting and keeping me safe. Love. I am inside this circle, my little world of hurt. But if there is one thing that I must always know, it is this:

I am still and forever surrounded by love. The love of my mother and those others past that extends down from the great beyond to envelop me when I need it most. The love of my fiance who holds me close at night. The love of my friends and chosen family, those who do reach out to me. Those who care enough to let me know. The answer is and always has been love.