SO, HERE’S THE THING YOU need to understand about me: I have a slight case of philophobia. Yes, it’s true, I’m afraid of love. This means that I will avoid falling in love at all costs. You see, people seem to view love as this beautiful, magical thing. And maybe that’s true, I don’t know. All that I do know is, I can’t really see the beauty of it. All I see is the ugliness. All I see are broken hearts and teardrops everywhere I turn.
It’s to the point where I can’t help but wonder why people do it. Why do people even open themselves up to falling in love in the first place? In the end, doesn’t it all just end the same way? With someone heartbroken.
I remember reading a quote on Facebook back when I was in sixth grade. It was one of those “inspirational love quotes” that people loved to post back then. It said: “I want a love that’s like an imperfect circle. It has its bumps but never ends.”
At the time, I just remember snorting and shaking my head in disbelief. Because everything ends. Every single second you just get closer to endings until you finally meet your own.
I know that the way that I think is warped. I know that most twenty-one-year-old women were actively trying to find love. I know that most people in this world looked for love. It’s what they craved more than anything. The feeling of giving someone love and getting that love back.
But not me.
The idea of falling in love with anyone was something that literally made me break out in hives. Like I was allergic.
I would never have guessed back then, that things would turn out the way they were now.
As I lay over him, clutching his bleeding wound and begging him to keep his eyes open and stay with me, all the while looking around for the police and silently begging them to hurry the Hell up, I couldn’t help but replay every moment, every choice that had led me to this place from the very beginning.