Two sides of the same coin.

I keep thinking about how I can be both things at once.
How I can ache for connection, yet freeze the moment someone gets too close.
How I want to be understood, but the thought of being seen terrifies me.

It's strange
holding opposites in the same body.
One side of me reaches out, hungry for warmth, craving a softness that doesn’t vanish when touched.
The other side folds inwards, guarding old wounds like they're sacred, convinced that any openness is a threat waiting to happen.

I'm not sure which side is winning.
Maybe that's the point,
maybe no one wins.
Maybe I'm meant to live in the tension between them, learning how to breathe in a space that keeps pulling me in opposite directions.

Because the truth is, both sides are me.
The part that longs for comfort
and the part that only knows how to brace for impact.
The hope and the fear.
The reaching and the retreating.
The wanting and the warning.

Two sides of the same coin,
spinning in the air,
never sure which one will land facing up.