She dressed in RED so she could stand out.
She wanted to be noticed.
But not too noticed.
She wanted to feel a woman’s gaze on her skin.
She wanted to be wanted.
But not needed. Never needed.
She enjoyed the beginning of relationships.
When feelings were fresh and raw and full of potential.
But she didn’t know what to do when shit got real.
When touch wasn’t simply electric anymore but also vulnerable.
When chemistry became connection.
This terrified her.
So she started and ended love affairs.
Over and over and over again.
But she felt alone.
Always alone.
She craved the connection that terrified her and desired the intimacy that made her want to flee.
She wanted to be seen and understood.
Desired and loved.
Needed and wanted.
For her complexities and her simplicity.
Her sexiness and her sassiness.
Her kindness and her edge.
But she also wanted to remain a mystery.
Unknown.
Untouchable.
How will she go toward the very things that terrify her?
How will she break the habits that make her feel safe and protected but keep her from connection? How will she break down the very walls that have allowed her to (barely) survive in her constructed castle?
She puts on her RED dress.
Walks out the door.
Steps across the threshold.
She tries to fly.
To soar in love.
But she is not ready.
To share control.
To grow.
To accept that she has to change.
To let go of her pain.
So she walks back into the house.
Alone.
Maybe next time.
