I never planned on meeting you.
You crashed in like strong winds and destroyed all my principles on love. Nonetheless, you didn’t scare me. You couldn’t have possibly been more than a mere visitor in the guesthouse of my soul. As soon as you checked in, I expected you to check out.
I’m growing to know you. I’m learning more about you each day, as you have entrusted me with the key that unlocks the door to your mind and soul. I opened that door—but I wish I hadn’t.
Now that I’ve opened it, I’m afraid of you. You have inflicted significant fear on me that cracked my whole being wide open.
However, I’m not afraid of the person that you are, but rather, I’m afraid of how the “you” will induce the “me.”
I’m afraid of the intensity of my love. Its beginning is already too extraordinary—how powerful could it get after years? I’m afraid because my love for you has the potential of drastically growing, and the thought of that alone horrifies me.
I’m mostly horrified by what’s yet to come…the first couple of months in every relationship are undoubtedly epic. We’ll only discern each other’s beauty—inside out. We’ll go nights, sleepless, just to discuss philosophy, literature and art. We’ll gaze at the moon, half-sleepy, while I rest on your chest and you pass the tip of your fingers on my chilly skin.
What will happen once the euphoria comes to an end? What will happen when our shortcomings come to the surface and our beauty transforms to nastiness? And what if we inflict pain on each other? What if we end up like our partners in the past, and never make it to the future?
I realize beauty doesn’t last long enough. And so, I’m terrified to show you my naked soul, with all its flaws, and trust you won’t leave it. I’m so afraid you might leave it. What if I give you my all only to see it returned to me? What if you take and never give? I’m afraid you wouldn’t give back.
I’m afraid of getting too familiar with your breath and too comfortable in your own skin. I’m petrified of getting too used to your existence that my own becomes inconsequential without yours.
And if I love you to a great extent, I will become afraid of losing you.
Perhaps, I don’t want to lose you. Perhaps, I just desire to live in your confusions, in your emotional bruises, and breathe life into them. You are the land I want to build my home in and the woods where I want to get lost. Nevertheless, I’m afraid to never be found again. I’m afraid your land and woods to be so charming, so magical, that I’d refuse to evacuate them.
What if you turn out to be the one who leaves? And what if you stay? Both possibilities are disturbing. I’m afraid of what I can become without you, as much as I’m afraid of what I can become with you. You’re like a flight I’m destined to take without knowing whether I’ll crash or land safely.
I’m panicking because I don’t want to become too vulnerable—I won’t know when to stop. I’m afraid you might penetrate my soul and discern my fears, weaknesses and my past. And what’s even scarier than the past is the present itself—it’s slowly leading me toward our enigmatic future.
Although my fear appears to be hazardous, trust that it’s the good kind of fear.
I know you’re afraid of me as much as I’m afraid of you. We’re both on that flight, and we don’t know whether we’ll crash or land safely.
Perhaps, dear lover, that’s what true love is about. Maybe when love is too intense, it petrifies both lovers. Meeting the one we’re destined to stay with is absolutely frightening.
Fear could be another word for love. It could be the word we steadily search for when we drown with unexplainable emotion. So if I’m afraid of you, it means I love you.
I realize fear and love are two different, contradictory things. People say they never work together—the one who fears can’t possibly love and the one who loves can’t possibly fear. The truth is, every genuine love holds at its core a little bit of fear. Every lover is worried to love too much, of losing too much, and—ironically—of gaining too much.
Although I’m afraid, I’m not afraid of fear itself. I realize it’s only the beginning of something beautiful emerging from inside me, toward you.
I realize without this petite flicker of fear, my love for you might as well be futile.
Author: Elyane Youssef
Image: Instagram @elyaneyoussef
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina