When Love Becomes a Threat

Increasingly, I'm becoming aware of just how deeply I've shut myself off, wrapped tightly within an impenetrable cocoon. I can have a wonderful time with a man, perhaps even feel something momentarily, but it's fleeting. There are emotions I occasionally crave: holding someone, kissing, falling asleep together. Yet, once I've experienced them and fulfilled that brief emotional need with the right person, I'm done—at least for a while.

What's wrong with me? Have I been wounded so many times, hurt so profoundly, that I'm incapable of genuinely feeling anymore? Is this some kind of defense mechanism, designed to ensure I never feel that excruciating pain again?

The last time I truly surrendered to feelings was in early November last year, and I cried. Everything was as it should be—no one hurt me. I simply allowed myself to fully experience my emotions, and they overwhelmed me. My emotions are a storm, one I usually keep tightly controlled.

Since that moment, I haven't allowed myself to feel so deeply. Over half a year has passed, and I haven’t shed a tear over a man since. I simply refuse to let myself feel, always pulling back whenever I sense that possibility with someone. Part of me longs for that beautiful feeling of falling in love, of soaring through the air, yet my internal barrier is so strong, I simply can't. I might feel something briefly, but it quickly fades, leaving me aware of how comfortable and content I am on my own.

Do I want to change this? Do I want to work on removing this emotional barrier? I'm not sure. Probably not. It's easier and calmer this way—I can maintain clarity and a cool head.

You know what's ironic? You, men, created this state, yet you’re the ones asking, "Why are you like this?" I've heard so many lies from you! For some, deception is as natural as breathing.

I can see right through people, especially dishonest men. Most of them only know how to talk—blah, blah, blah—just enough to get you into bed, never intending to follow through on any of their promises. After experiences like these, trusting anyone becomes incredibly difficult.

Overall, I think I've become excessively pragmatic. When emotions begin to arise, logic immediately takes over. It's better to evaluate right from the start whether the situation is worth investing in, rather than pulling myself out of emotional turmoil later and resorting to antidepressants again. Of course, I consider how much a man earns, what he buys, how he dresses, what car he drives, and where he lives. When you buy yourself a Rolex watch, for example, you're not going to date someone who still uses an iPhone 8, drives a 20-year-old car, and lives in a cheap apartment in an old building. It's a blunt example, but it illustrates my point clearly. He simply wouldn't be able to meet my expectations or understand my affinity for finer things.

Yes, I strive for luxury, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It's perfectly normal to love money and desire a good life. I'm not used to settling for less. When I achieve one goal, I raise the bar, set a new target, and keep moving forward. But some people just stop growing, stagnating in their comfort zones. I’ve repeatedly stepped outside mine, expanding it to the point that I no longer know its boundaries. I can't even imagine what I'd need to do to truly step beyond it now. But when I discover that next frontier, I will undoubtedly embrace it, because stepping out of your comfort zone is the essence of growth.