Philophobia

Cinderella… Snow White… Sleeping Beauty… fairy tales that I had come to love as a little girl. These tales formed my visions and interpretations of what love was. A fair maiden living a broken life, awaiting for the day when her Prince Charming would handsomely ride in on his white horse to rescue her lonely heart. Each story ending in a similar fashion, a shared kiss followed by riding off into a happily ever after sunset.

As life blurred by, an uncontrollable force slapped those Disney dreams out of my heart and matured my mind to see the reality. Fairy tales are exactly as they claim to be, tales. Sure, they paint a beautiful image of what love is, but its a very far fetched theory. The idealism that’s planted into our young minds is immature. My views on love not only shifted, but it began to fade as my age grew. Frienemies is what would become for love and I. My heart would keep the magic of this eternal bond safe while my mind kept everything else in check. You see, there’s one important part of each of these fairy tales that I consciously looked over… Even though each princess was internally broken, their external beauty was super model quality.

My teenage years quickly opened my eyes to how the love game actually worked. Allow me to explain.. Imagine a straight line that has three points mapped out on it. One dot on each end and one in the center. Each dot represents an island. The left island is where all of the beautiful, hot, gorgeous and sexy women live. The center island is where all of the cute and pretty women live. Then way over to the far right end of the island spectrum is where all of the misfits live. You know, the ones that society has labeled broken, freak and damaged. Depending on what island you reside at determines if prince charming will ride through your neighborhood. Love tends to visit and plant its roots in both Hollywood island and Nintendo island . Misfit island doesn’t get may visits from Cupid. Now I’m not in any way saying that love never rolls in that neighborhood, I’m just saying that its rare. The reason why its rare is because the residents there don’t pass the “Eye Test”.

I reached a point in my life where I forced myself to be content with the fact that I wasn’t going to find my prince. It hurt like hell, mainly due to the fact that I am a hopeless romantic and that one day I want to become a wife and have a family, but it is what it is. It had to be this way for life to seem less fucked up. Teenage life closed and those infamous 20’s kicked in. I began to enter empty relationships. I began making every wrong decision possible. Five years of a down ward spiral turned into a moment of clarity. That moment of clarity came in the form of a cowboy with that hot southern accent. A smile that made a girl blush and baby blues that mesmerized. From the day I met him, my life forever changed. I fell hard and I fell fast. It was a unforeseen love that shook up my hidden world. “I Love You” was mutually spoken within a  few weeks into this fever rush. Feelings I had given up on whipped in, future memories flooded my mind. Every part of me was flying on cloud 9, well every part except for one. My heart. I felt everything I thought love was, but the walls that I had previously built wouldn’t fully collapse. They crashed down 3/4 of the way, that last 1/4 was  indestructible. I had blindly figured that it was due to past relationships and the trust issues that followed them. So, like an idiot in love, I pushed myself to step over them and ignore the blaringly silent message they were sending out.

Weeks turned to months. Love turned into lies, cheating and the introduction of ones violent temper. The prince I had thought arrived to rescue my heart was actually an imposter who was on a Stockholm mission. Another woman entered me into a truth scavenger hunt. This fever rush was now poisoned. The afternoon came when the truth would shine. I confronted your cheating ass in a very mature manner, but it wouldn’t matter what my disposition was because the end result was going to play out in any beginning. A tone of “breaking up” drenching my voice. Anger flaming in your eyes and rage running through your hand as it gripped my throat. You pinned me to the wall and uttered word vomit. Looking at me like I was a helpless fawn, informing me that it would be wise for me to forget everything I had found out and just be lucky that a guy lie you was with a girl like me. 10 seconds after your verbal barf session ended, a strength I had no idea I had pulsed through my body. Meeting evil glare for glare, I responded with the final termination of our relationship and sealed it with a impermeable threat. Shock and awe absorbed into your eyes as your death grip loosened. Your physical form left while your verbal presence lingered for 3 months. Threatening texts and phone calls. Unnecessary e-mails and posts to my social media. The idea run in your head that I was a weakling who was eventually going to come skipping back to you. Rejection was the only dish I was serving you and your dissatisfaction rolled right off my heart. One final threat was delivered to your voicemail. My famous last words delivered one packed punch, the final punch. Never again would I hear from you. Never again would I feel trapped in that dark corner.

As I slowly took in a fresh breath of oxygen, I started the process of damage control. Sweeping up the broken pieces, mending and sewing the scraps back together and rebuilding my walls so that my wounds could scar. You know what’s even more screwed up than my last relationship, the fact that for a nano second, I told myself that this asshole is right. I’m not the hot girl who has other prospects. I’m the damaged chick who rarely gets looked at. Maybe I should just sweep it all under the rug.

Yeah, I know. That villain broke me further than I already was and he left me with the gift of Philophobia.

I want to find love with a genuine good guy more than anything, but I fear that my ability to read people has been shot. I know that not every guy is as shifty as that cowboy was, but I can’t stop thinking that lightening can in fact strike twice in the exact same spot. I also fear that a good guy will notice me and that the chance for love will present itself, but I’ll miss out on it because I’m too damaged from my past. I keep running the scenario where love knocks on my door, but I simply don’t hear it because I don’t think it will ever happen. When a guy looks my way I don’t think he’s looking at me. My natural reaction is that there’s a gorgeous women standing behind me. The whole mess is so screwed up. But, I hope and pray for the day where I’ll meet my king. Yep, I’m still a sucker for fairy tales and a happily ever after. I’m Sally looking for her Jack.

“A desire to fall in love is not love yet. But the fear to fall in love is already love.”   _ Etienne Ray

Until next blog… Love Derra ❤

 

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