Reader, I want to put a trigger warning on this blog.

The fear of a broken heart has stopped greater men than me from ever loving again. Every day I have to remind myself to not let it, and every day, multiple times a day, I have to remind myself to remind myself.

Every day I have an internal debate narrated by my stronger and weaker self, and I have to let it play out. If I don’t, if I push pause or skip to the end, then nothing happens. But if I hold on, let the tape run out, and believe that I could live on from the end of the argument about my inner demons, then I might be able to love on, too.

I’m young, I’m so young. This is something that no one prepared me for and no one really talks about. Not enough, anyway. Each and every time I hear a song that reminds me of her I break a little.

Okay, so I’m not young enough for there to be only one her. Right? I’ve had a few hers by now. It’s different now, though. I feel like there is a big thing inside me that has changed after the last time. Did I reach my limit? Did I learn too much or did I forget something vital?

Reader, I want.

I do. I want a lot. And a lot of the time these desires conflict. It’s a little refreshing knowing that part of me is now un-wanting. Let me explain.

All that ranting above is a gross stream-of-consciousness way of saying that I don’t want romance right now. This is hard for me because for as long as I can remember I’ve wanted a dance partner, metaphorically and literally.

I’m coming to terms with it, but something inside me is different than it has ever been. I am a different person these days than I was in my entire history. There is no longer an Andrew, not the same one anyway. There is a new Andrew out in the world wearing my shoes and saying hello to the people I used to know.

And that’s not as scary as you’d think. Do you remember those horror stories where one brain is switched for another and someone else is living in the hero’s brain? Do you remember the horror of the thought of someone else tucked neatly into your life with your face? I do. But it’s not as scary as I thought it would be. I just don’t understand it.

I heard once that there is no fear of death, there is only fear of the unknown. I used to be afraid of death. So much so that it kept me up at night. This feels similar to that, but also drastically different. I haven’t been sleeping well, but I don’t feel afraid. Not in the same way that I was of death. I like the idea of not being afraid to die. And I like the idea of not being afraid of the unknown. I like that idea. It’s what comforts me when I can’t sleep, that there is an idea like that floating around there. An idea that says you don’t have to be afraid.

So I’m not afraid of death and I’m not afraid of this new person that’s tucked himself into my shoes and lips. A person who has kissed people that I’ve met, and seen the same things I’ve seen. I know this person, but I don’t trust him.

At the end of every tunnel comes the light. Just like a train ride. I don’t know if this is permanent, and I don’t know if it’s a ride I want to be on, but I bought the ticket, and I’m sitting in the seat. Why not get comfy and see what’s around the bend? Even if someone else is conducting.

I’m asking you a lot of questions in this blog, and that’s a little unfair. But you can contact me through this blog. I encourage it. Especially if you are feeling something similar, reader. Do you have faith in the same romance you had faith in when you were asking your high school crush to prom? What about that romance you felt when you lost your virginity? Do you remember how fast your heart raced? Do you remember how fast her heart raced?

Good night, reader. Until next time. Thank you for stopping by.

Also, as a post script, I want to warn you that I may be moving to Australia sometime in the near future and this may turn into somewhat of a travel blog. If that is the case, I hope you enjoy the trip to come vicariously.