I feel like a big, raging ball of emotions. I can’t even begin to describe what. I feel so much that I wonder if I feel at all. It’s hard to isolate them sometimes.

I mean, here I am now, the one and only person in the world who has repeated to herself the sentence "Do not fall in love!" over and over again. What happened was... I convinced myself... and I got to the point where I thought I was incapable of loving someone.Expressing feelings has never been a strong point. I tend to try hard to make myself cold. Being vulnerable is not something I particularly enjoy. Which is why last night was so rare…letting myself cry, but more than that—realizing that I am so attached to him.

I had no idea. I didn’t want to know. It’s scary. I’m leaving. I could have gotten out. I almost did. But for some reason, I can’t even tell you why—I decided to stay. And then, within the month I was telling him I was in love. And now? I cringe at the thought of being without him.

How’s that for a bag of apples? I can’t say that I regret anything. There is not one thing about this relationship that I regret. Before anything happened I told a friend I didn’t want to waste my time with something that wouldn’t, that couldn’t, last. But the friend called my bluff. He told me I wasn’t worried about that—I was scared about loving something so much that it made leaving harder—that my decision was going to be whether or not I would leave someone behind that I really loved.

I hate it when other people see through me when I don’t. I like to think I’m a really introspective person, that I figure a lot of myself out. But those are only overall traits and characteristics. I shy away from the feelings of the moment. I don’t want to know. Why? That’s so strange. See, and even right now I’m looking at the overarching situation rather than trying to figure out what I really feel.

Because it’s fear.

Fear of losing him. Fear of being alone.

But most of all—

Fear of feeling anything.