Vulnerability pt. 2

I’ve been vulnerable before—

and again I find myself questioning the very notion of self-control.

 

How is it that I could surrender so much of myself to you—

each shared glance, each spoken word—

and still not be enough to secure your heart in return?

My love, once a wellspring of unconfined devotion,

has become an immolation I regret giving,

each drop of affection, each act of tenderness,

dissolving into an abyss of wasted promise

I can scarcely reconcile.

 

I once believed that love, when unbound by obligation,

would be sufficient to bind two hearts in mutual understanding.

I gave you my trust, my vulnerability,

only to watch them slip from your hands,

unvalued, uncherished.

 

Where do I go from here?

Do I continue to offer pieces of my heart,

in the hope that someday, someone will value them?

Or do I withdraw, seeking solace in the protection of detachment,

allowing the scars to dictate the limits of my capacity for love?

 

I once believed that love, in its purest form,

was a redemptive force.

But I now see that without mutuality,

it becomes a force of destruction—

one that corrodes the self,

leaving behind the remnants of a person I no longer recognize.

 

I’ve been vulnerable before—

but this vulnerability has become my teacher.

It has shown me that I cannot continue to seek validation outside myself.

The capacity to love must be rooted first in self-acceptance,

for only then can I offer love that is not contingent upon another’s recognition.

I have learned the hard truth:

true love begins with the self,

and only from this foundation can it transcend into something healthy,

something that sustains rather than diminishes.

 

Perhaps, in time, I will come to understand the full implications of my vulnerability,

and, in that understanding, I will learn to love again—

not in the desperate hope of receiving love in return,

but in the quiet, confident assurance that I am enough,

regardless of the affection or indifference of others.

I will love again…