Fear of Love

I stood in front of the door for eight full minutes before I pressed the doorbell.

He opened the door holding several bills in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” he asked looking bewildered and somewhat concerned.

“I don’t know.”


We both looked at each other. He then waved me into his living room.

“He said he loved me.”

There was a beat of silence.

“So what are you doing here?”

I plopped onto the couch.

“He said he loved me, and I left. I got on a plane and left,” I said. I put my head in my hands, ashamed.

He sat down next to me and put his hand on my shoulders.

“Hey…” he said soothingly.

“I’m seriously the worst person ever.”

“You’re just freaked out, that’s all.”

“But why?” I said, jumping to my feet. “Shouldn’t I be happy? Ecstatic? Why am I running from the first person to ever love me?”

I started to pace back and forth, becoming exceedingly more horrified by my impulsive decision.

“People do crazy things when they’re scared.”

“Well, can you tell me what I’m scared of?”

There was another beat of silence.

“Maybe that you might love him too?”

I slowly sat back down on the couch.

“Maybe I might love him,” I repeated quietly. “That’s terrifying.”

“That’s okay, you know.”

“To be afraid of loving someone?” I raised my eyebrows.

“To be afraid of letting yourself love someone.”

I nodded, letting his words sink in. We sat there in silence.

“Maybe I might kind of love him.”

Previous Post
Leave a comment

Tell me what you think!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: