Toss and Turn

Sanja's bed was hard and unwelcoming. She turned, hoping to feel more comfortable and was faced by the emptiness of the other side of the bed. It had been empty for quite a long time, yet it still caught her off guard. Huda's words resonated in her mind and she knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep soon. Sanja got out of her cruel mattress and set off to her office. It was her refuge, her happy place. Nothing would hurt her there, not even herself. Her computer made a chirping sound when she turned it on and its blue light flooded the otherwise dark room. A younger, happier Sanja looked at her from the screen. Her father had taken that picture when she was sixteen and they had gone on a holiday by the sea. She missed him. The word processor opened automatically, a blank page full of promises where anything could happen. If she couldn't sleep she might as well write. 

Her fingertips tried the keys, anxious, eager to type the words that were trapped inside Sanja's brain. Yet, the only thing that came to her mind was her conversation with Huda. She was her best friend, but they didn't see each other as much as they would have wanted. It was the first time they had seen each other since Sanja had broken up with her last boyfriend, four months ago. Huda was always brutally honest, and she was that time.

"Sanja, your problem is that you're never yourself when you're dating someone. You always tame yourself down, because you think you'll scare them off if they see the real you. You try to be the perfect girlfriend, you put too much effort on it, and then they get tired of being with someone who is not really herself, who won't speak her mind." 

Sanja agreed, she was like that most of the time, and she just realized so. She would say what they wanted to hear, keeping her opinions to herself, and she hated herself for that. Of course no one would love her if she weren't true to herself. However, she had been true to Luke. She had shown him her real her, and he had fled anyway. She couldn't be someone else, she couldn't be herself, how was she supposed to find love?

The cursor kept blinking reminding her of her failure to find a story that would soothe her soul. A small voice in the back of her head whispered "Write this, write what is happening to you". The voice was right, of course, that would help her feel better. Her fingers started typing instantly. 

Lucille had been unable to sleep for days. The void on the other side of the bed would keep her awake reminding her she was unable to keep anyone for a long period of time. That night she had given up and simply stared at the empty pillow. "You don't control me stupid empty side of the bed" she told the cushion and the sheets and the mattress that still kept his shape, stupid smart mattress "I don't need you to be occupied to feel fulfilled, I'm a strong independent woman and I need no man". The pillow didn't reply, because, of course, pillows don't talk, but Lucille almost saw a mocking smile on it's wrinkled surface. She sighed and decided to get out of bed, what was she going to do in there anyway, fight the empty sheets? 

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled her kitchen shortly after. She poured herself a cup, black no sugar, and drank it while it was still scalding hot. If she couldn't sleep, she should take profit of it. Her notebook was on the kitchen table, an unfinished story waiting for her, telling her to keep writing. Lucille had started writing after her last break up. It was therapeutic, it helped her put her ideas in order. It also helped that it was her story. She changed the names, she changed some things, but some others she had taken straight of her own life. Some of the things that were told to her MC were sentences that had been uttered to her. And all the tears, all the tears were hers too. She knew that manuscript would never become anything, but she needed to get it out of her or she would go crazy. Her pen danced swiftly through the pages, leaving blue scars on the white paper. She didn't have control of her hand anymore, words poured out before she had even had time to realize what she had written. She filled pages of her notebook until she was calm enough to go back to sleep. Her bed was waiting for her as she had left it, empty and with wrinkled sheets. She stared at the empty pillow, but it was only a pillow and nothing else, there was no mocking smile, there was no void. And she realized she had the whole bed to herself so sleeping on one side was stupid. She got back in her bed and took as much space as she could, shifting back to sleep. 

That was it. Sanja wasn't the only woman who was alone and wasn't the only one who would be. She would find love, eventually, but if she didn't she could still be happy with her bed all to herself. 

Coordinates

The sound of high heels violently hitting the floor echoed through the corridor. Everyone knew what it meant, the boss was walking down it and she was mad at someone. People ducked for cover as she passed by the door of their offices, letting out a sigh of relieve when she didn't enter. She had an objective and nothing would stop her. The IT department office was almost at the end of the corridor, and they listened with dread how the footfalls got closer every second. The young technicians stood frozen in their places, paralyzed from sheer terror. 

The footfalls stopped in front of the IT office. No one dared to look at her, fixing their stares on the cursors blinking on their screens. She entered the office, acknowledging no one, straight to her victim. 

-Mathews.- her voice was commanding, the young man turned around to face his boss.-I need you to check this out. 

She handed him a small piece of paper, folded in two. As she did, she turned around and left the room. None of Mathews' colleagues dared to ask him anything. He opened the paper, there were some coordinates and a time. He knew what it meant and what he had to do. Folding the paper again he put it in his wallet. 

At the convenient time, he was at the coordinates she had given him. It was an abandoned hospital. Its iron fences and gates were rusty, and the yard in front of it had grown into an impenetrable jungle. He tried the door and it opened easily. He crossed the yard following the broken twigs that had left the person who had passed earlier. The place sent chills down Mathews' spine, yet he had to get in. He opened the door and the smell of old hospital greeted him. The place was desolated, and there were things scattered all over, as if the former occupants had left in a rush. 

He took a moment for his eyes to accommodate to the darkness reigning inside the place. He looked around trying to find a sign of the direction he needed to take next. Soon he saw a set of footprints leading to the upper floor. He climbed the wide staircase to the first floor, and saw a soft golden light pouring from one of the rooms. It was time. 

She had her back at the door when he entered the room, but turned around fast when she heard him. The next second she was clinging to him, kissing him hungrily. Without a word, they fell on the dusty floor, tearing their clothes apart, making love in a wild manner. 

-Everyone was so scared of you this morning.

He was propped on one elbow looking at her lying on the floor. She looked so diferent, her copper hair tangled instead of cleanly pulled up on a ponytail, her voluptuous body free of the constraints of office wear. Even her blue eyes were different, as they were soft instead of impassible. He caressed her stomach with his free hand, his dark skin against her pale one. 

-I know.- she smiled, reaching for him to kiss her. She never had enough of him. 

-Delilah.- he muttered when she pulled away.

-Yes?- her voice a reminder that she was the one who was in command. 

-I've been thinking,... I'm tired of meeting you like this. We've been in abandoned warehouses, abandoned churches, abandoned cemeteries. Why can't we be like a normal couple? Why can't we go for dinner and then go to your house, or my house, or any place with an actual bed? I'm not saying that sneaking into places is not a turn-on, but I'd like to have something normal for a change. It's also very hard to see you everyday and pretend we don't know each other as we do. 

She rose and sat cross legged in front of him. That disturbed him a bit for a second, reminding him of the inherent sexual energy she had. 

-Ben, you knew this would be like this, we agreed this would be like this when we started it and when I hired you. You knew that this arrangement was comfortable for me, that I don't really have time for romance, and that I can't stand having anyone over at my place, not even you, as much as I like you. This is not a romantic relationship, not the usual type, at least. We give each other something that we need, and that's it. If you need to take a girl out for dinner to feel fulfilled, go ahead, but it won't be me. As far as you still give me what I need, I won't complain. For this same reason we need to keep distance at work, it wouldn't be fair for your colleagues to know that you were hired, in part, because you're fucking the boss, would it? 

-But,...- his black eyes meet her blue ones.- I love you. 

She shook her head and smiled. 

-I don't. 

She stood up and put her clothes back on. 

-I'll contact you for the next time.- she said as she left, leaving him alone and naked in the softly lit room. 

Too late

I can still remember the first time we met, several years ago. It was at a party at Lea's place. I was being an insufferable know-it-all and you called me out for it. Afterwards, you made one of your stupid jokes that made me smile. We started talking and we seemed to have a lot in common. You became my friend without even realizing it. You were the person I'd go to when I had problems, the one I always relied on. And I thought you'd be with me forever. 

I never told you that you were one of the most important persons in my life. I never did, because I always hid my feelings. Because I was afraid of giving you so much power. Because I didn't want to get hurt. I never told you that I really liked you, that it was weird. I never told you that I needed you, because I couldn't stand the feeling of needing someone. I never told you you'd hurt me when you did. I never told you you were an asshole, even when I should have told you. I never told you I missed you so much that it hurt, when we were apart. 

I never told you how I truly felt, I was scared to do so because I thought you were too good for me. I never told you because I was waiting for the right moment, and the right moments came and went and I never told you. Now it's not the right moment, it's probably the worst moment there could be, but it's my last chance. It's now or never, and I don't think I'll be able to sleep ever again if I don't say it out loud. 

You were the reason I smiled some days, but also the reason why I felt so sad I thought my heart would break into a thousand pieces. Sometimes, I saw things that made me think of you and that would make my day. I don't really know if it was love or what was it, but I felt it for you. I should really have told you all of this before, you would have helped me figure it out, instead I kept it inside me, growing into a hurricane. 

And now that I'm finally telling all this to you, you can't hear me. I should have told you all this when you could still have hugged me and told me that crying makes me look ugly. But I waited too long and now it's too late because you'll never get out of this casket. Now you're dead and I'm saying all these things too late.

Sant Jordi

Legend has it that long time ago there was a reign that was terrorized by a dragon. The dragon would demand to be given a child in a periodic way, it then proceeded to eat them. To keep the dragon away from their cities and his subjects calm, the king had devised a system in which the name of a child would be drawn randomly so that not even the royal family could escape the fate. And one day the name drawn was the one of the young princess. Luckily, the knight Sant Jordi happened to pass by, and he killed the dragon. The blood of the dragon made a red rose bush sprout, and the princess and the reign were safe from the dragon. 

Sant Jordi happens to be the patron Saint of Catalunya. Although I have never seen a dragon around. As I was writing the legend I realized that there are several plot holes in it. First of all, why hadn't anyone ever tried to kill the dragon before? Why did the dragon eat children? I mean there's more meat in a cow. Also, why did Sant Jordi pass by exactly on that moment? (There's a possibility I have actually forgotten some part of the story and there is a better explanation to that) Is Sant Jordi responsible for the extinction of dragons? If dragons as a specie were endangered, why would they let him kill it? I'm still thinking that cows are much more filling than children, specifically if you're a dragon. 

Anyway, every April the 23rd we celebrate that Sant Jordi contributed to the extinction of dragons with something that should become a National holiday. Men give roses to their beloved to commemorate murder, I mean love, and women give books to their men because,... Books are awesome, I guess. This means that the streets fill up with stalls selling roses and books, and there's lots of people on the street, and look at all those books I want them all and I want them now. 

Because I really love this celebration, I took a day off today and went walking around Barcelona. The most traditional place to go is Las Ramblas and that's were I went. Going in the morning meant there was less people, and there was an awful lot regardless. It also meant that the roses were fresh, and as soon as the rose stalls started lining up I was hit by the smell of them. It was lovely. It was good enough to make me forget how much I hate it when there's too many people around me. I searched the book stalls for some book I'd like to have. The bad thing about Sant Jordi is that the books they sell are usually new books, so if you're looking for something else, you're out of luck. I took a look to "Men without Women" by Haruki Murakami, which I really want and which I just realized shares name with a book from Hemingway that I also need to read. I ended up finding a place where they had books in English and bought "Trigger Alarm" by Neil Gaiman, because I've also been wanting to read something by him for some time. 

I always buy myself a bookon this day, and sometimes my mother buys me another because she knows I love to read. However, for several reasons, I've never been given a rose. Well, my father used to give one to me, but that was when I was a child. I've never had a boy give me a rose, and sometimes that makes me sad, because, despite me hating guys giving out flowers, it's something I want to live some day. 

A pile of books would work too, it would actually work even better. 

Travel

"Let's get married, Hayden" he said, excitement shinning in his eyes. I had always been reluctant about marriage, but I loved Douglas and we had been dating long enough for me to know I could spend the rest of my life with him. I said yes, of course, love is about making sacrificies, and I was willing to forget my distrust in marriage for him. However, it would need to be done my own way. Not wanting to get married meant I had never given thought of how would I want my wedding to be. There was something I knew, I didn't want it to be traditional. It took me some time to realize what was the perfect solution, and then I broke the news to Douglas. 

"I think we should elope." 

Douglas raised his left eyebrow, as he did when he was surprised. 

"Do you?" 

"Yes." I was sure about it. "I don't want to dress up like a princess and have to pay meals for people I haven't seen in ages. I want it to be something for us alone. We are celebrating our love, we don't need anyone else around." 

"So, what's your idea?" Douglas never talked much. Neither did I, our relationship was filled with comfortable silences. 

"Since we won't be spending money on fancy dresses and guests, we could simply travel around the world until we find the perfect spot to get married." 

It was perfect. We had actually met while hiking at a natural park and we loved to travel. We would have a wedding and a honeymoon all in one. And from the moment I first came with the idea, I knew it was what I needed. Douglas took some more convincing, specially because he was worried his mother would get mad at him. In the end, he accepted.

"So, where do you want to go?" 

"Europe" 

He out a face and I laughed at it. It was the kind of face that said "Say Rome or Paris and I'm dumping you." 

"I was thinking Prague, Budapest, Athens and the islands, Finland, Sweden, Norway, Ireland,..." 

He smiled. 

"Up to you then, you pick the first destinations, and then we will decide on the road." 

And so I did. Because the cheapest destination to fly to was Budapest, we started there. The spring in the city greeted us, the large Danube river crisscrossed with bridges. We walked around the city crossing the famous Chain Bridge from Pest to Buda, walking around the old city in Buda fascinated by the colors of the houses, crossing back to Pest through Elisabeth Bridge and eating in the food stalls in the market. I was always an early riser, and Douglas was more of a night owl, so sometimes I would start without him in the morning, and he would stay up late when I had already gone to bed. He explored the night life on his own. From there we took the train to Prague where we visited the constellation of squares and alleys, as well as the Jewish quarter and Kafka's museum. Our next destination was Athens, were I fell in love with the Acropolis, I could almost feel the stones whispering my secrets to me. The ferry took us around some small, little known, islands, with barren harsh lands and clear waters. We swam and we ate excellent fish, and it was hard having to say goodbye, but that was not the place were we would get married and we needed to move on. 

From the Greek islands we flew to another one. A larger, greener one, Ireland. As soon as we set foot in Killarney I knew I'd found the place. The Kerry peninsula was the place. It was wild, it was solitary, it was beautiful. It had to be there. And so I told Douglas. 

"We can't get married anymore, Hayden." He told me. 

"What? What do you mean?" Getting married had been his idea, why was he saying that, then? 

"Hayden, I met someone in Budapest, we have mantained contact, and I think she's the right one." 

"What?" I was shocked, and disappointed, and somehow convinced that I had seen it coming. Yet, I was not hurt. 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. People fall in love and fall off all the time." I shrugged my shoulders. 

He packed all his stuff and left that same day. I couldn't leave, however, the land was calling for me. And I obligued. Carrying my backpack I set for the Kerry way. The wetlands on the way to the Black Valley soothed my soul. I walked and walked, from one town to the other, from Cahersiveen to Waterville, and from there to Caherdaniel. And on the coast just before Caherdaniel I found Derrynane beach. And there I fell in love. That was the place I'd have wanted to get married, that was the place were I'd have gotten married, but instead I found myself. 

Obsession

-I almost checked his Facebook page again, today. While one hand was typing the other one closed the tab. It's an internal fight. A part of me wants to know what he is doing, the other takes me back to reality, a reality where he doesn't know I exist and where my obsession is pathetic. Yet, I long to see him. 

My therapist shifted from his seat making it creak. I never looked at her when I talked about Steve, I always looked through the window, I didn't want to see the look of disappointment on her face. 

-You see him every day, Tara. 

-You know what I mean. This week I've only checked his Facebook page twice.-I admitted guilty.- And his Tumblr three times.-I added after a silence.- I didn't reblog anything, though! 

-Tara, do you remember what did I tell you when we started with this? 

I did remember, but I didn't want to. I had been dragged there by my mother, she was worried because I was acting weirdly, although dad had told her it was because I was a teenager. She wasn't convinced and spied on me. When she found out what I was doing she decided it was enough and forced me to start therapy. 

-Tara? 

-Yes, you said that I had to cut any kind of interaction with him. Any kind that weren't face to face. But I can't talk to him! Have you seen me? Why would he want to talk to me? 

-So you rather think he's talking to someone else, right? 

That hit home. I had been pretending to be a much more beautiful girl to talk to him. Natalie was pretty enough and brave enough to talk to him, and I hid behind her. 

-But I was happy! 

-No, you weren't Tara, you were obsessed and obsession has never led to happiness. 

Dear Liz

Dear Liz,

I promised I wouldn't write, but I had to. We parted ways four years ago, both of us deeply hurt, both of us vowing not to see each other ever again. Both of us wanting to forget both the good and the bad times, leaving the wounds to be healed by time. Maybe, by the time you're reading this letter, you've already forgotten everything and my name is alien to you. I doubt it, I know you remember me, what we had was not something one can forget so easily. 

I promised I wouldn't write but I did. I wrote because even after all this time there isn't a day I don't think about you. I have a prodigious memory, you used to be surprised by the things I could remember, even the slightest detail. Sometimes I would point you at something just to amuse you. Yet, my memory is a curse disguised as a blessing. Now, everywhere I look, everywhere I go, I see you, I hear you, I remember the things we did together. 

Do you remember that little restaurant I took you a couple of times? It was my favorite place, but it was always booked and we hardly ever had enough money to go. I haven't gone there since the last time I went with you, I only passed in front of it once and it made me remember everything about that night. You were wearing your orange summer dress, your hair up in a bun, some ringlets escaping from it. You were tan, your skin golden under the soft lighting. You asked for a cold vegetable soup and roasted chicken with pears. The soup you ate taking small spoonfuls, the chicken you cut in small pieces. You ate slowly, like you always did. For dessert you had chocolate pie, of course, you couldn't have anything else. Chocolate pie was always your favorite. I always asked you to let me try, but you always denied me with a smile. You could never share something like that, just as you couldn't share me. 

I had to move from my flat, our flat, because you were everywhere. You were in bed, you were on the bathroom mirror, in the kitchen eating breakfast sitting on the counter. It was too much to bear. I tried to, believe me I did. I was told I would need time, but after six months I still saw you as you had been the day before you left. I had loved that flat, it had been a rare find, but after you left it became hell. After I moved out things seemed to get better. It was a fresh start. Or so I thought. However, we had been together to too many places. At first it was the obvious ones, like the teather or our little restaurant. Afterwards it was the streets where we used to wander. Now I can't walk on streets we had been together only once without remembering you. I stay at home all day long, fearing the triggers that will make me remember. But the triggers are inside me now, because my hands are the ones that held you, and my lips are the ones that kissed you. The memory of your touch burns my senses. 

I promised I wouldn't write, but I did. It is only this one time, however, I'll never write you again, I promise. This is a goodbye, because it hurts too much living without you but having to remember you every day. Remembering what I once had and I will never have again. Remembering what I have lost forever. It hurts too much and I can't live like that. 

It's not your fault, it was never your fault. And I hope that if you remember me it will be because of the good things. I want to ask you a last favor. Don't come to my funeral. My funeral is my own, one of the few things of mine that you don't have. Don't come, please. 

I promised I wouldn't write as I promised I would never tell you I loved you ever again, but, since I have already started breaking promises, it won't hurt if I break another one. I love you. I have always done, and I could never stop loving you. 

Yours forever, 

Ryan

Interference

The image disappeared suddenly after having been distorted for some seconds. Qrle groaned, it was tired of that happening every time it was trying to enjoy its image transmission. 

-Wliq! Could you contact the broadcasting company? It's happening again. 

Wliq joined Qrle in front of the image projector. They both were large, slimy, and of an unidentifiable color. Wliq groaned as Qrle had done. 

-They told me there is nothing wrong with the projector or with the signal. That it's simply some kind of foreign interference. They are trying to identify the source, there is some kind of pattern to it. As if someone was trying to communicate with us. 

-Well, we don't want to communicate with them! I just want to enjoy the image transmission alone. What would they have to say, anyway? "Hi, we want to be your friends", I don't want to be their friend! I wonder if they are tasty, though. 

-Qrle, you're too grumpy! It will be exciting to get in contact with other forms of life. If they have been able to send signals is because they are intelligent. 

-Intelligent! I wouldn't say they are. They've been stupid enough to blindly send a message to the emptiness of space hoping it reaches someone. And the only thing they have done is interfere with the image projector!

Wliq gave up, it knew that when Qrle was like this there was nothing it could do to make it reason. 

Many years ago, sixty million light years away from Wliq and Qrle planet, some scientists in Earth had sent a message to the space. 

-Imagine someone picks up our message!- said one of them. 

-Or something!- added another.

Calypso

She smiled shyly from across the table, it was their second date and she still didn't understand what he had seen in her. Calypso hadn't been lucky in love, all her lovers banishing in strange circumstances. Alan had been insistent, however, and, despite her doubts, she ended up agreeing on going for a date. He was the perfect man, the one her mother would love, he was an environmental lawyer who spent his free time doing charity work and exploring the outdoors. And he was handsome, very handsome. He smiled back at her.

-You look thoughtful, what's in your mind?- his voice was like poured honey. 

-Well, I,...- she stared at her pale hands, she had done her nails the day before and they were iridescent like sea shells.- I was wondering why do you like me,...

-Why wouldn't I?- she stared blankly at him.- Calypso, you're an extraordinary woman. I've liked you for quite a long time. I admire you because you're strong, you're smart, you're passionate. 

-I'm nothing like that. 

-Yes, you're. You just can't see it by yourself.

-You don't know me. 

-Let me try to get to know you better, then. 

Calypso had a bad feeling about that, but Alan convinced her, he told her that she needed someone who showed her the good within her. And that someone had to be him. They dated for some time, enough for her to feel comfortable and open up to him, tell him things no one knew. She cared about him more than she had ever cared for anyone. One day Alan called her to tell her they needed to talk. They meet later the same day, him walking restlessly up and down the living room of his house. 

-Calypso, I love you, I love you more than I thought I could love anyone. 

-I love you too.- she said, wondering where all that was going. 

-You don't love me as I do.- Calypso tried to interrupt him, but he kept on talking.- You don't, you never will. You don't understand the effect you have on men, Calypso. It's driving me crazy. You're always on my mind, I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't think about anything else, and when I manage to you appear back in my life. It's torture. Torture by love, but torture anyway. I know you don't do it on purpose, that it's your nature. But I can't handle you, you're too much, it's like trying to stop the tide. You're a force of nature, Calypso. 

-What do you want me to do?- she asked knowing what the answer would be. 

-I think we should stop seeing each other. Don't text me, don't come to see me, if I need anything I'll talk to you. If I ever feel ready to see you again, I'll come to you. 

As Calypso bid him farewell she knew she would never see him again. He had been a vital man, sure of himself, when they first met, and she had left him a wreck. She wondered whether that was what had happened with all her previous boyfriends. As she stepped out of the door and into the spring she got distracted with the colors of the flowers and Alan was soon just a distant memory. 

The Fool Woman's Fears

"There are three things all wise men fear:

the sea in a storm, 

a night with no moon, 

and the anger of a gentle man"

Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

Because I'm not wise, nor a man, I've decided to adapt the quote to something a bit more appropriate. Therefore, paraphrasing Rothfuss, it would be something like that. 

"There are four things all fool women fear: 

the feeling of failure, 

facing rejection, 

experiencing pain, 

and being loved and in love"

Failure, rejection, pain, and love. It's an odd choice of fears. But these are my most profound fears. It doesn't mean that I don't have others, but the others I find ways to fight, ways to tell myself that they are irrational and stupid. But for these ones, there is nothing I can truly do. 

The fears of failure and rejection have always come entwined, ingrained from early childhood. I was never allowed to fail, if I fell I always had to stand up and try again, do better, be the best. I was the best. This fear has led me to be extremely competitive and push myself further than even my environment does. It has led me to say "Maybe" instead of "I can't do it", "I'll try to" instead of "It is impossible". This fear makes me try harder. Put like this it seems like a good thing, everyone should aim to be their best. But my best is not enough, I always need to be more, do more, because otherwise I'm failing, and the sole thought is terrifying. Rejection is it's sister in my mind, because if I fail I'll be rejected. It has played quite a big role on shaping who I am, my old friend rejection. I was always the different one at school, standing apart from my peers, because I was sensitive and overreacting, because I was smart, and because, in their words, I was fat and ugly. Children and teens can be cruel, and I felt rejected. I was rejected because I failed to be like them. I was rejected for who I was. Everytime I've been rejected in my life, I've felt that it was my fault, that I've failed to be what the other person expected from me. Every time I fail I fear that I won't be given a second chance. 

Pain is a fear that has evolved throughout time. It's something organic that feeds in my soul. First, it was fear to physical pain, as I had excruciating knee pain that made me want to cry when I walked. By then I woke up every morning wondering whether I would be able to walk normally or I would have to crawl my way around the streets. The constant pain made me feel powerless, made me want to rip my knees apart. I've broken several bones during my lifetime, and have cried an equal amount of times because of the pain, or even more, but that was nothing to the fear of not knowing whether you're going to be in pain for the whole day or not. Now, that my body is as whole as it can be and the only pain I experience is when I workout too hard (or when I fall from my bike and break something), I fear psychological pain. I have experienced some breakdowns in my life, mainly from pushing myself too hard, from being too responsible. And now I fear feeling my mind break down, letting the flow of emotions free and destroying everything on its way. I fear being so sad that smiling makes my heart hurt. I fear the dull pain of knowing that there is something missing. I fear the moment all of it is going to be too much and I'll have another breakdown. I fear the moment my mind is going to shatter into a thousand pieces and it will never be whole again, if it ever was. The worse part is that there's no stopping this pain, that most of the times I'm inflicting it onto myself, I'm the one who takes the axe and buries it deep making metaphorical blood flow. 

The last pain is possibly the strangest of the four. No one fears love, or maybe no one has ever considered if they do. The realization that I fear love is a quite new one. It does take some time to realize that you fear love, on one hand because we are always told that love is a good thing, that we need to pursue it, on the other, because there is no way you can say that you fear love without looking like a sociopath. But I do, I fear love. Or maybe I fear the idea of what I think love is like. And I think I fear love because to me it's a combination of my previous three fears. It is fear of failure, of thinking that I won't be able to make it work. It is fear of rejection, of opening myself to someone else and having them reject me for my flaws, for being too demanding, too overwhelming, too cold at times. It is fear of pain, of heartbreak, of the pain you only experience when you love more than you're loved, when you care so much for someone that you feel like someone is ripping your soul apart. 

These are the fears of my life. And they might be irrational, but they are mine.