The Porcelain Hand

As I was walking to my train tonight, I started contemplating love and why I don’t have it. Well I guess I know why, I have a tendency to self sabotage.

But New York has this way of reminding you of all the things you don’t have. Love is everywhere in New York City, it is quite literally in the air. For example in my brief ten minute walk to Grand Central, I saw a man helping his girlfriend out of their apartment clasping her hand like it was the most delicate thing he had ever touched. There smiles matched in perfect unison, they were in their own world completely sheltered and un-phased by the circus of Manhattan surrounding them.

I watched as a man carried a huge bouquet of some kind of purple flowers, a small grin lying wistfully on his lips. And I wonder if whoever the man was bringing those flowers to, if she felt the same admiration back.

If so, they are both are blessed.

You see it everyday in the city, an elderly couple linked in arms helping each-other cross the street, couples embraced in Bryant park engaged in their own little dances of emotion, in the kind gesture of a quick kiss on the forehead saying “I am here I won’t leave you”.

See I know what love is. I have felt it on many levels.

Or so, I’m coming to realize, I thought.

One thing has always been a given for me.

That anything I find scary, that I don’t understand, I push away. It is in me to question everything. I have a tendency to wonder not IF someone will walk away but when. Cause when they eventually do it’s just easier to tell myself I told you so.

It’s a game I play.

Because of this I have a deep respect for anyone who has enough courage and trust to take the scary plunge into love.
A calculated risk they know might not always end well yet they are fearless enough to try anyways.

I want to be as brave as you.

I often wondered how the men I cared about in the past (the good ones at least) kept up with me for as long as they did. I wish I could say that when it comes to romance I am that easy going laid-back girl that I tend to be in all other relationships in my life. No, when it comes to men I run as far away as I possibly can. I get scared, I fight back.

I turn away so that there’s nothing to face. I want real love more than anything, but I won’t let myself have it.

Don’t ask me to explain I can’t understand it either.

Maybe there is something men should fear about the independent woman, maybe we fight to be strong because in reality we are the weakest of them all.

The most vulnerable, the most concerned. Nervous that the stone facade will crumble away at any moment revealing to the world it’s real make-up.

The fragility of porcelain hidden inside.

I like taking care of myself because that means no one else will have to, and that gives me the upper hand.

Sometimes I feel I am a walking contradiction. I both relish in the attention of men, yet at the same time despise it. The looks I get on the streets, the getting asked on dates, the “hey can I buy you a drink”. It’s like a drug it makes you feel good momentarily, but then when you come down off the high you just feel cheap, and paranoid.

Some many hits, no permanent high. So you begin to question everyone’s intentions, well at least I do.

I guess like most woman I hope that one day my Prince Charming will come and see through the mask I put on for him. I hope one day I can let myself be in love… Although it’s scary to think that I really don’t know when that day might come.

And one day, I just hope I can be okay with reaching out my delicate hand to be clasped once again.


One thought on “The Porcelain Hand

  1. Pingback: Be fearless…. | Clarabelle

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