Afraid to Love, But Still Hoping

I’ve always been someone who worries a lot—especially when I feel like I have something to lose. Nobody likes being hurt or disappointed, but for me, the fear of rejection feels stronger than it should. Lately, I’ve been thinking more deeply about this. I’ve realized that my fear often makes me imagine things in my head—stories that must match reality for me to feel safe enough to connect with people.

Now that I’m trying to take more chances in life and focus on what I really want, that fear has come back stronger than ever.

For a long time, I thought it was normal to expect the worst, to assume people would leave me, and to be scared of commitment. I thought I was just being cautious—and maybe even a little interesting or mysterious. But therapy changed how I see myself. I was diagnosed with depression, and I spent hours reading and learning about my feelings. I realized my constant fear wasn’t just part of my “charm”—it was something deeper.

When you’re young, being a little negative or “coolly distant” can seem okay. But as an adult, it becomes exhausting. I often ask myself why my brain always chooses the sad version of things instead of the hopeful one. And I’ve felt embarrassed by how emotional or defensive I can be. Even when you learn to accept those parts of yourself, dealing with them every day is hard work.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is this: I’m terrified of being abandoned. I’ve felt it before, and I know where this fear comes from. But it’s still painful. It feels like I’m always waiting for the good things in my life to fall apart. I often feel powerless and alone—like I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

But here's the surprising part—I also feel ready for love again. I’ve done a lot of work on self-love. I’m lucky to have loving friends and family. But there’s still a romantic part of me—a soft, hopeful girl inside—who wants romantic love, too.

The problem is, I feel very unsure. Some days, I feel new to love again. Other days, I feel tired of trying. I’ve been in relationships before, but now, even the idea of looking for love feels exhausting. So I go back into my imagination, where it feels safer.

And then a thought hit me—maybe I created a perfect person in my head to protect myself. Maybe I picked someone I found attractive but knew I’d never meet again, and I turned them into the “ideal” partner in my imagination. This way, no one in real life can compare. Not because I don’t want love—but because I want to stay safe.

Maybe I’ve set such high standards not out of confidence—but out of fear. Because every time I try to be “realistic,” I get hurt again. So now, I hide behind this perfect idea of love. I ask myself: Am I making it too hard for love to reach me? Maybe… yes.

But still, I feel sure about one thing. This time, I don’t want to be the one who tries first. I don’t want to always be the one who gives more, who works harder, who opens up first. Maybe I want to feel wanted, too. Even though I’m a strong, independent woman, maybe I still dream of being the one who gets swept off her feet. And maybe that’s okay.

It also means I have to be okay with feeling unsure sometimes. And I have to accept the possibility that maybe I won’t find the love I imagine. But even if I don’t, that doesn’t mean I’m not enough.

Because I am. is k title aur subtile dein mojy