Fear:

I have nothing to give

I have so much to lose

Here in this lonely place

Tangled up in our embrace

Fear by Sarah McLachlan

�

It’s terrifying, falling in love.

You never know who’s going to catch you. You never know what their true intentions are. You never know when they could leave you, if they will leave you.

You don’t know anything.

It’s like trying to find the light switch in a pitch-dark room with nothing to guide you. It’s scary and you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

The terror eats you away. Whispers that you push to the back of your brain suddenly come to the front and drive you crazy.

What if he doesn’t really want you? What if he’s just lying? What if he doesn’t love you?

It drives you insane.

-

Anger:

And I am flawed�

But I am cleaning up so well

I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself

Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional

�

The screaming and fighting never seems to stop. You would think that eight years together would have taught you something.

It obviously hasn’t.

The words that you never wanted to say, the ugliest things, they rise up and take over. The insults pour like lashing rain, and it never seems to stop.

You both say things that you know you don’t mean, things that don’t mean anything, but it only fuels the fire. Tears are now falling, red dots dancing behind your eyelids.

And then he attacks you, throwing you against the wall and latching his lips against your throat.

It always ends this way. It always ends like this and the arguments never cease.

But you still give into the flame.

-

Relief:

When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high,

And don't be afraid of the dark

At the end of the storm is a golden light

And the sweet silver song of a lark

You’ll Never Walk Alone by Elvis Presley

�

He rests his head on your chest, whispering something unintelligible. You can’t understand it at all. You can only feel the way his lips move against the base of your throat. It tickles slightly. He’s playing with your hair, something he loves to do and you pretend to hate.

He lifts his head up, eyes bright and compassionate. His lips move. I’m sorry, he says. I didn’t…I love you. I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. Please forgive me.

The terror goes away. The flame dies out. His words are like the ocean tide soothing the burns and bruises.

Your lips meet. It’s a gentle dance, a promise.

Oh, the sweet reprieve.