**Journal Entry: Disorganized ** It’s weird. Wanting closeness but being terrified of it at the same time. That’s how it feels most days like my attachment style is throwing hands with itself. I crave intimacy like air, but the second I start to get it, I tense up like I’m preparing for disaster. It’s like: _Come here. Wait don’t._ _Hold me. Wait why are you still here?_ _Prove you love me. But if you try too hard, I’m suspicious._ Disorganized attachment is a glitch in the system. A soft heart with a broken compass. I didn’t choose this, and I’m not proud of it, but I see it in the way I move. In how I overthink every message. In how I feel too much and nothing at once. In how I want reassurance but hate needing it. In how I test people to see if they’ll leave because I lowkey expect they will. I learned early on that love could be warm and sharp at the same time. That people could say they love you while still being the reason you cry yourself to sleep. So now I’m always a little unsure. Not because I want to be difficult. But because safety is still a foreign language. And the worst part? I know what I’m doing. I _see_ myself spiraling. I know when I’m self-sabotaging or pushing someone away just to protect myself from the rejection that hasn’t even happened yet. It’s like watching yourself trip in slow motion and not being able to catch your balance. But here’s the thing: I’m working on it. I’m learning to pause instead of panic. To name what I’m feeling instead of burying it. To let good things stay. To stop bracing for the goodbye before anyone’s even walked away. I don’t want to be at war with love forever. I don’t want my past to keep winning. So yeah… my attachment style is messy. But so am I. And I still deserve a love that sees me, chaos and all, and says: _I’m not going anywhere._