Laying in bed on a calm Sunday morning, listening to that soft trickle of a rain storm hitting the pavement just outside my window. My partner’s cologne lingers in the warm sheets surrounding my body; butterflies fill my stomach as I breathe in his scent. He shifts next to me, still sleeping at this early hour. The sun is just starting to peak through the blinds, and I’m alone with my thoughts. My greatest fear is being alone with my thoughts. No one to talk to so I can drown out the creations flooding my brain. No distractions available to preoccupy my mind with someone else. Just me and my thoughts.

A new relationship is supposed to be filled with giggles and butterflies. But it’s not the same after you’ve been hurt; cut deeply to your core; betrayed by the one who you gave your heart to and when they returned it, you didn’t even recognize it anymore. Trying to love someone new with a heart full of bandaids and stitches is messy and complicated. Trying to tell them everything so they understand you, but not wanting to burden them with the sins of another.

And in the early mornings when the sun is peaking through the blinds and the rain is causing my mind to drift away, I wonder if he will be the same. To give my heart to another who will break into even tinier pieces. As I stare at his freckled face lying next to me, I wonder how long it will be until he hurts me, too. Something I fear has entered my home, and I’m the one who opened the door and welcomed it in. Please God, let this time be different.