The creeping doubt has set in once again. Smoking out my thoughts, replacing them with worry; that we won’t work, that maybe we weren’t meant to. We’re so different, my dear. You’re chasing a deeply rooted sense of security and I want a shared freedom, shared exploration, shared adventure. The two have some overlap, but I don’t know if that’s enough. Is anyone ever really enough or do we simply learn to make do? Can we really be enough for one another?
The trouble with these gut reactions, with these doubts, is that I’ve been here before. I’ve been consumed by worry and suppressed my doubts and in the end I walked away while the sinkhole in my heart attempted to devour me whole. I worry that my gut is simply trying to save me from the breaking we’re bound for down the line. I worry that I worry too much. I worry that I’ll always be running from doubts based on maybes and somedays.
I need your arms gently wrapped around me, wringing these thoughts from my mind, casting out the worry from my chest. Why am I so reluctant to let things be?