The Kind of Loss

 It’s the fear of losing someone again—but this time, it’s not through death. It’s a different kind of loss, one that demands I give up pieces of myself in the process. No matter how much I try to think it through or prepare for it, the truth is: we never really know how much pain we’ll feel until we’re right there in the middle of it.

What’s ironic is that I’ve spent so long being guarded. I’ve built walls, protected myself from hurt—whether from family, friends, or people I’ve loved. I thought that would make me safe. But breaking a heart, even your own, is never easy. No amount of preparation, no amount of past experience, can ever make it less painful. No one is truly brave enough to face heartbreak head-on.

Lately, I’ve been overwhelmed by all these thoughts and emotions. It feels like I’m laying all my cards on the table, and it’s terrifying. A part of me wants to retreat, to hold back—but I can’t. I’ve found a kind of love that’s real enough for me to move forward and believe in. And the deeper it goes, the more vulnerable I become—the more it hurts.

It’s not about labels. It’s not about how others see us. It’s about knowing each other’s soul. That’s what matters.

People have always seen me as the tough one, the hard one—not easy to deal with, maybe even hard to love. And honestly? That’s true. My toughness is the armor I’ve worn since I lost my mother. Being hard was how I coped with the pain. I didn’t allow softness in. But today, I feel it. I feel myself breaking. I’m more emotionally sensitive than I’ve ever been. Who would have thought?

Love has changed me. Pain has reshaped me. I wasn’t even looking for it—but somehow, love found me.