Vulnerable

To let myself become vulnerable is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I am a fighter. I am stronger than most woman my age need to be, and I have earned the right to seclude myself. To expose myself to someone is more terrifying than any obstacle life could throw at me. I could toss my clothes to the side and be exposed without shame, but the vulnerability I speak of is much deeper. I’m speaking of the naked emotion shaking from trembling lips. When the heart drops from it’s cage to the pits of the stomach as each word becomes a ladder to either utter disaster or unimaginable bliss.

So why is vulnerability so hard for an overly-emotional woman like me? Perhaps it stems from the flawed lifestyle of my past. Statistically speaking, 99% of the people who I’ve admitted adoration for (whether it be friendship or more), have left my life upon hearing the news. The second I let myself become exposed they pack their bags and slam the door.

Which really is a shame. For me, mainly. Because here I am sitting in bed after surgery with nothing but my music to keep me company. I have spent so much time shutting people out that no one can help me when I need it. There is no “drop-everything-and-come-over” friendship in my life. I am simply a speckle of star dust flying through the cracks of people’s lives. I have been told no so many times that I have simply stopped asking the question. I have stopped asking for help. I have stopped telling those that I love that I need them.

Why?

 

Because if no one loves you back, if no one misses you, if no one wants to be around you, and if no one’s life shines brighter because of you…. then do you truly exist at all?

 

xx: Post-Surgery & Bedrest thoughts

 

 

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