Maybe the luck of being loved isn’t given to everyone… but me? If I’m honest with myself, I don’t even know if I’d know how to love, if I were given the chance. I mean… not truly. Not for real, with my whole soul, with all my courage, without holding back.

I’m afraid. I’m afraid to feel too much, to lose myself in someone. I’m afraid I won’t be enough, that I won’t be understood—or worse, that I will be understood, and the other person won’t like what they see. So yes, I’ve wandered from one open door to another, from a “maybe” to a “not now,” and from a “what if?” to a “better alone.”

I’ve met beautiful people. People who may have loved me. But I didn’t know how to stay. I hid behind the idea that they weren’t right for me, that they didn’t truly see me. But what if the truth is… I never really let myself be seen?

It’s easier to dream of love than to actually live it. In dreams, it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t fall apart. It doesn’t demand compromise, patience, time, work… In dreams, love is easy. In reality… it’s a daily choice. It’s something you build. And me? I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to lay even the first brick.

How many chances have I missed, just out of fear of stopping? Of saying, “This is where I want to be. This is where I choose to build.”

The real failure isn’t that I wasn’t loved. It’s that I didn’t know how to love. Or that I didn’t have the courage to try.