I’m kind of worried I’m even crazier than I previously thought. Every time I start opening up to someone, or start getting close, I suddenly shut myself off. I numb my entire body; my heart, my head, my senses, they’re all dead. I know I’m simply afraid of being vulnerable and getting hurt again, but what’s the use? If I won’t even give anyone a chance of making me happy again, I’ll never be happy. I think I got so sick of playing the victim, I decided to become the villain instead. I wanted to be this callous creature with no emotions, a ruthless beast that takes no prisoners. I just can’t be that callous. I know I’ve already hurt several people in my attempt to protect my heart. What good is a secure heart, if you’ve got to break the hearts of those around you? A secure heart isn’t a content one either. It’s lonely. I’m lonely.
I’m just so scared. I’m scared of getting played again, hurt again, getting my name dragged through the mud, getting my hopes up for a future that never comes to fruition. I’m a fragile person to begin with, like a butterfly. The last time I got close to someone, my wings got crumpled and ripped off. I was left in the grass to fend for myself or die. I didn’t die, but I’m grounded. I’m stuck in this static place that I never wanted to end up in. I’m all about evolving, and that’s the one thing I’ve stopped doing. I feel like I’ve smothered the last threads of hope and life within myself. I don’t want to die, but not moving forward is like a slow, painful suicide.
I just don’t know how to get moving again. Is it even possible to grow a second pair of wings? Before I got hurt, I was this vibrant, inspired, free-spirited, innocent creature. Now I am this tarnished shell of the person I was before. I put up a good front most of the time, and occasionally glimpses of the person I was before make their way to the surface. I know we can’t go back in time, I just want to be more like the person I was before. I miss the old me. I was a girl with so much to offer the world, and now I feel like I have nothing. I suppose I succeeded in a sense, in becoming the villain. Isn’t the Hollywood cliché that the villains are the ones hurt much worse than our leading men and women? Their cruel actions are retaliation for a haunted past. I don’t want to make excuses for how I act, but I feel like there are people I’ve hurt that deserve some explanations.
I know that I’m wounded; I just hope there’s a cure for me. I don’t want to die alone.
Lindsey. Twenty-Five. Currently pursuing a degree in Professional Writing & Film Studies.