"His sympathy, though well intentioned, always seemed to carry with it an indictment. Disappointment, however faint, that she'd been unable- or unwilling- to recover her old self. It didn't occur to him that she might have chosen to remain this way. That where he saw reserve and loneliness, Cassandra saw self-preservation and the knowledge that it was safer when one had less to lose."
- The Forgotten Garden by: Kate Morton p59
I had a conversation with a friend the other week. I struggled through the whole conversation. I felt an overwhelming need to justify my hurt. That even as I was trying to explain things that had hurt me without obsessively laying out all the details I began to wonder if it was even that big of a deal. If I was being a silly girl for being so damn hurt.

I've been walking this fine line between withdrawing for self-preservation and withdrawing because I'm scared. I'm trying to figure out all over again what my role is in all of my relationships.
I'm trying to feel safe again in relationships with anyone. But I vacillate. Wondering if one should ever really feel safe in a relationship that's worth anything at all.

I'm torn between wondering if I've finally stumbled out of my 13 year old view of all or nothing relationships into an adult view of being happy with the scraps you can get and wondering if I'm just growing bitter and jaded.

I wonder if it's just me that refuses to ever just be completely happy. I wonder if anyone is ever completely happy.
I wonder if it's me that refuses to stop worshipping the cut, the shatter, the hurt.
I wonder if it's just me, refusing to recover.