I feel torn. I want to help. I want to feel needed. I want to know that things are reciprocal and not merely one-sided. Is that selfish? Of course it is.
The silence is deafening. The assurance is partial and incomplete.
In the end, I am left with my doubts and insecurities.
It seems the only way to get rid of the insecurities is through the lapse of time.
Having been hurt too many times to count doesn’t help either.
I either become a recluse or persevere. Neither option seems appealing, but only the risky one bring rewards.