1.8.18

All she wanted was someone to stay. Someone who wasn't afraid. Someone who could love her scars. Who could help heal the open wounds. She didn't want someone to save her. She wasn't so much the damsel in distress type. She was the, "I'll get through it, but could you hold my hand?" type. She was never the type they thought she was. She was loud and bold and in your face, and anything but afraid. She wanted to be afraid. Oh, how she wanted to be. If she was afraid, they wouldn't get in so quickly. They wouldn't be able to hurt her the way they did. She wanted to run from the idea of love and togetherness, and midnight kisses, and random dancing. But she craved it. She craved some one who wouldn't run from her darkness. Someone who could see through the pain, and understand how hard she was trying. She wanted... no she needed someone who could understand that certain words to her were like nails on a chalkboard. But she would accept some of them if you needed her too. She wanted someone who wasn't always trying to change her. Not that she didn't want to change, but somethings can't be forced. She wanted someone who didn't always try to tell her what she means, but could see her struggling over the words, and would hand her a pen to help let them out. She wanted to be afraid to love. She wanted to be afraid to hurt. But her desire, her hope, for something real... it was stronger than fear.