- reflections of my heart ♥ . ( entry #1 . ]

It's amazing how time and space aren't familiar to anything other than love. Over the years, my life was filled with times that were either overjoyed with love or not. No more, no less. I assume my mother loves me. My biological father doesn't love me. My "other father" doesn't love me enough. Space in my heart is only reserved for those who've showered me with love. Showed their faithfulness over time . People whose loyalty I've tested over the years. For those who haven't, I share no space. Mentally, physically, or spiritually. Fortunately, I devote most of my time with those who love me. And for those who haven't, I've spent very little time.

In many ways, I'm my own friend's therapist (free of charge). Most of my friends confide their secrets with me. Even though I appreciate how much they trust me, I rarely reciprocate. My life is not an open book. I'm a very private person. I'll tell you only what I want you to know, which is usually very little. I don't like people analyzing me, so if they have nothing to think over, they can't analyze, right? Sounds extreme. But I can't you everything.

My closest friends always ask me why I keep my guard up. Probably because I don't want to be betrayed anymore. Every time I start trusting someone enough to bring down my guard, they end up hurting me. Turning into the asshole I didn't they were. Pulling the rug from under me. It all ends the same.

I've only been in love once. And right now, I don't think I'm ready to experience that again. Too much drama. Paranoia. Pain. I just don't need it right now. But I wouldn't take it back for anything. I loved him more than I loved anyone on this earth (in a romantic sense). He was so good for me. I would have given him anything. Everything. And I'd already given him all of me. And I still spent hours. Days. Months. Searching. Trying to find hidden gifts behind doors. Between couch pillows. Under beds. I still wanted to give him more. More than just Brianna. I didn't see how he overlooked that- the extravagance of my love for him. How could he not see that I would've sold everything important to me. My clothes. All of my shoes. All of myself. Just to have him.

I don't know what was wrong with me then. I let my emotions get the best of me. For the worst. But that's exactly what I wanted. To wait. Just a few more minutes. Until he saw that I was the one for him. His Cinderella. That I'd ensure that his heart's desire fell into his hands. At all costs. I would wait. For him to come back to me. To play fights. To soft kisses and hugs. To him challenging my decisions. Questioning my choices. Making me better.

What happened? When did I lose track? Shit. When did he stop loving me? And her. She was there all along. Offering jack-o-lantern smiles with each "we're just friends" handshake. I would have never guessed it. Watching his hands around her waist while she cherished it all. I didn't believe my own eyes. Nor did I want to. All I wanted to do was switch places with her. Love him. Deal with her backstabbing ass later. How selfish could she be? I had him. And she stole him away.

There's no love like unconditional love. Familiar love. Love that saves lives. Love that survives. Love of the spirit. I tried that, and I lost the war. Lost myself. The once fiesty, independent, stubborn me was replaced in a matter of months with a girl dependent on her man. I think he noticed it, too. Some of it could have been avoided if it wasn't for my 360 degree change. But all I wanted was for him to love me. Love me without reserve. Without condition. Make it medicine for the soul. Feed me love on silver spoons. My fear to love extends from the fear of never being able to love like that again...