Is it wrong to tell someone that you love them?
In the past few months, many things have been happening to my heart. This isn't to say anything about my current relationship, however. I have felt the serious pangs as I feel friends slipping away from me, and my heart still hopes that one day, it can beat for them again. I've felt myself growing more and more infuriated with my family, and the 'love' that one has to have feels more like a burden, and a forced bond. I have never said the three magics words to my brother, and frankly, I don't ever want to. I know that it sounds childish and cruel, but I don't believe that the knowledge that my heart has a small space for him would affect his life at all. If anything, it would hinder it. And my admittance to said space in my heart would be done begrudgingly, as he has done nothing to deserve it, and if anything, I've been trying to push him out. I don't want to waste my love on him anymore.
Then, there's the confusion of friends, of people who have called shotgun on the bit right in the middle of my heart, where it beats the fastest, and loves the most, and therefore hurts the most. Two years ago, I gave that middle bit to someone, and ever since it's been trodden on, mistreated and spat on; then self-abused and malnourished, hoping it would shrivel and die, but alas it never did. It still beats for her, and it causes me fear. I know that my heart still gives a shit. I know that something inside me - the part of me the makes me break out in puddles of sweat when talking to the guy I used to fancy; the part of me that still smiles when I hear 'Sweetness' by Jimmy Eat World; the part of me that can't listen to The Killers or The Fratellis - will have a small breakdown at Graduation. I genuinely got 'the fear' when I went to Southampton to see Coates/Taking Back Sunday. That crippling fear of not knowing what to do, say, how to stand, where to put your arm, or whether to wipe the sweat away or pretend like it's not there when you bump into that person who you don't ever want to see again, because of said embarrassing moment. My problem is that I've got three of them: One lingers between Norfolk (very infrequently) and Guildford, where I plan to never ever go again. One inhabits the city I have to return to for, and will also be attending, Graduation. And the last - well, I've lost track. Could be in Suffolk, could be at Uni somewhere, could be smashed off his eyeballs in Ibiza. He's really low on my 'Fear Radar'.
So, to conclude, love is a difficult thing. My insecurities, paranoia and general social awkwardness make love even more difficult, but apparently we're all cursed with some kind of short-fall. I only wish mine didn't make my make-up run and my forehead moist.