I have a knack for reading people. It isn’t what we say, but rather what we do. The quick twitch of the eyes, the subtle readjustment of our faces to suppress shock or hurt and the way we might fidget. I’ve rarely met a person who means what they say and says what they mean because when it comes to matters of the heart there’s almost always a hidden, deeper meaning. Our body language gives us away long before our mouths get the chance.
On top of this, my intuition is almost never wrong. It’s a nagging feeling deep in the gut that often times translates into anxiety. The issue is that my weakness is that I will get all the signs that a person is danger personified. That they will either hurt my feelings or have the potential to shatter my heart and I will ignore them.
I’ll run into them full speed ahead, and all due to my own overwhelming desires to be loved and wanted. This innate urge to love, nurture and dote on others. I wound up being a rehabilitation center for broken men.
This one weakness kept me in relationships that I knew would never last. Not only will I run into the fire, but I’ll hold on and have the audacity to question why my hands are burned. This is something I must work on because in this twisted insecurity I wind up settling for partners who are less than what I deserve or even want.
Recently, I was dangerously close to doing it yet again, but fate had other plans. In the muck of lacking boundaries and two people craving intimacy, we found some sense to end things. Despite the commonalities, I saw no future with this damaged man and yet that urge to be a damned rehabilitation center began to resurface. It only proves that I have more work to do.