Growing up, I was accustomed to “tough love”
My father would yell and hit me. He’d say it was out of love and for my own good.
My best friend would criticize me and mock me. She’d say it was out of love and for my own good.
And the man that I thought I loved would lie and **** me. He’d say it was out of love and for my own good.
Then one day I met a boy.
He was different. He treated me with respect and kindness. Something extremely foreign to me.
I think people call it “romantic”
Whatever that means.
I wasn’t familiar with the concept of “romance” or love. I was always mistreated and whenever I felt someone try to love me I’d get scared and run away. I didn’t know what to do in those situations since I wasn’t used to it.
And that’s exactly what happened.
I ran.
And ran.
And ran.
Until I lost him.
I don’t blame him though.
And to this day I still don’t know what to do if someone approaches me wirh love.