I doubt I'll ever be completely secure in knowing that someone else honestly loves me.
I'm not entirely certain that this insecurity came from someone or something outside of myself; it seems to me to be a nature/nurture cross. But it's possible that I can't see it clearly, and it's one or the other.
In the end, it doesn't matter. The point is, I start to doubt. Worse than that, I begin to suspect. Suspect that the person who swears up and down and backwards that they love me is lying to placate me, to make me less of a psychotic bitch, to make their life easier until they can find a way to leave me.
My best friends would call this fear and suspicion completely unfounded, but I... do not. The concept of friends has finally grown normal to me, but within my close-knit group of friends, I think we have enough drama, love, betrayal, and heartbreak to last each one of us a lifetime, or damn close to it. I have seen and heard the lie “I love you” hundreds of times. And I am always petrified that the people who tell me they love me are doing the same thing—lying.
I feel terrible about this, because I know there are people in my life who honestly do care. I have several best friends, other close friends, and a boyfriend who is so sweet I can't even begin to describe it. (The fact that this description contradicts my post about kitchens doesn't surprise me.)
But I'm still afraid. No so much about the best friends, because I think I finally get that they love me for better or worse... but about my boyfriend. I'm petrified that I'm not good enough for him, or that I'm turning into his ex-girlfriend, or that I'm manipulating him or making his life harder or worse. I'm scared that, despite the swearing and promising, I'm getting in his way somehow. That I am not good enough.
And I guess there isn't much else to say on that subject, except to promise him for the thousandth time that I love him, and that won't change.
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