Because of the emotional trauma that some of us have been through, we remain souls alone — afraid of giving our heart to anyone. Living in the past, we have struggled to obtain this most precious of things: love. We have fought to be recognised to have our love and self-worth validated. So now, we withdraw into ourselves, thinking that we are undeserving of that which we most seek.
If there is no battle, if there is not a fight for the heart of another, then we will disbelieve that it is true. We only see love as a battlefield, one filled with wounded and dead soldiers. Having had to fight to prove that we are worthy — if there is no hurt — if there is no tragedy, then there is no love.
All of our lives, we have to struggle for acceptance; now, the pain internalise is all we have to give. If there isn’t a fight to win the heart of another, then the love is not real. Love is a struggle, love is a battlefield of broken dreams, so this is all we have to give.
If it does not cut or if it does not bleed or leave a scar, then it is not real, never mind that these beliefs are pushing us further away from our dreams. No one should desire what we cannot possess. We see love as a battlefield of broken dreams.
If there is no dishonesty or loss of self-esteem, then we do not want to know. I inflict the pain born unto me unto another.
The world is a cold lonely place, where no one deserves to dream or have them made real. And so, we pump up our muscles, our bodies gleam but inside is a heart as cold as stone, one that is incapable of giving or receiving, for we surrendered this a long time ago and accepted it as the norm.
If it is not cold — if it does not turn our hearts to stone — if it does inflict pain, then we don’t want to know. Love equates to heartache, that which we most seek to avoid we make real. Instead of pumping muscles, we should be attending to our wounded minds. We must learn to love ourselves so that we can love one another.