Feelings On Paper

I'm Sorry Dear

Today, he told me he felt like I was not as open as I viewed myself to be.

I'm an open book to my trauma. You'll know I was raped, sexually assaulted, boyfriends who treated me like shit, friends who turned enemies, bullied, and don't forget, daddy issues.

I think thats the issue though, the fact that I'm so open about all that was or is wrong with my life. It's all the same we've heard of before, the same stories with different names and locations, it's all so watered down, that we've learned to accept toxicity into our normal lives.

I do consider myself an open book, but there are parts of myself I could never share face to face without choking up on words.

That I wish I loved my family as much as others love theirs. I wish things were different between me and my siblings. I wish I did actually want to fix my relationship with my father. I wish I could forget the venom spit at my face about my heritage and the way I speak.

So much of me ponders on every single person I have ever been romantically involved with. Every boyfriend from college, every girl crush from high school, every boy I hung out with in middle school, every crush I had in elementary school that I can remember.

I know why he says I'm not open. Because I have such a big heart, it craves love, it seeks out for it like it is a source of life. My heart wants nothing more than to give out kindness like free candy on Halloween.

My heart loves to love and that's why I hate romance and sappy movies. Every single happy ending makes me cry.

I tell everyone, "I'm a people-person that hates people." I don't hate people. I don't think there's much room in my heart to hate. But years of that kindness and that sickeningly, pure love being used and disregarded, causes me to close it off.

I'm open about the person I am. I'm messy, I have baggage, I'm broken, but still hopeful that every day will be better.

But my love and kindness will remain guarded by the most fierce monsters, once with claws that will cut back at any snide comment, teeth that will rip through the unwanted touch, eyes that will back any poor pup into a corner.

My straightforwardness became my Cerberus.
"Is this a date?" "Why are you reaching out?" "What do you want from me?" "Am I what you expected?"

"Am I good enough?"

I'm an open book with a lock inside. You can know all about me, my crazy latin family, all my interests and hobbies, the stories of those I've so valiantly been defeated by, my past lovers and those I wish had been lovers.

But, I'm sorry dear, my heart remains within myself until Cerberus falls into slumber.