I’ve built a bubble. It’s a space where my pieces can rest without being touched. People see me; they see the smile, the routines, the life I choose to share on the surface. But there is a safe line I keep, the border where I don’t invite everyone to cross.
Protecting my scars isn’t about shutting the gate out completely. It’s about choosing who gets the map to my world. After losing pieces of myself, I learned that openness without boundaries only leaves me vulnerable again. So I keep things close.
And yet, I still wonder if one day I’ll invite someone over the line. Maybe I won’t. I’m not even sure if what I want is a lover or just the validation that I deserve to be loved. If I’m honest, it feels more like fear. Fear of judgement. The fear of being left and unchosen.
So for now, I live in that uncertainty. Keep growing stronger without someone’s company. I protect myself because I must. I no longer allow people to just know me without stay. It’s never about fifty, but fully.
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