Hurt

The first time that I remember being aware of what it meant to get hurt I was under five years old. I was at my cousins house and we were playing in the grass in the back yard. We decided to play with the sprinkler, which was stored in a shed, on the uppermost shelf. The Rainbow sprinkler was metal and when you turned it on, it made a rainbow in the spray.
I climbed up on top of something and reached for it (I can see this memory clearly in my mind, as if it was yesterday). I grasped the sprinkler and pulled it towards myself--right towards my face. The next thing I knew I had a gash in my forehead and my Aunt Faith was doctoring the wound.
Prior to this incident, I had been hurt but I had not become aware of what "getting hurt" meant or even was. So, when I reached for the sprinkler I had one thought. To get it down, and play with it. There was no fear that I would become injured, because that concept did not exist to me yet.
To me, this incident was significant. I remember being conscience of what it means to feel pain.
I feel like most of my life I have spent being very self aware. Even as a child I worried about getting hurt. This is burdensome to me sometimes.Other times I think that it helps me to be more careful with other people's feeling and beings. I don't want anyone to feel pain, emotional or physical.
Fear causes me irrational anxiety. I fear getting hurt and I fear someone I love being hurt. I tend to spend a lot of time in solitude thinking and then worrying and then praying. I pray for people I love, and I pray for people that I hate. I have spent many hours fearing imminent death, even when I am just sitting or showering.  I have allowed the fear of being hurt stop me from giving my whole heart to another person; and I pray that these walls around my heart will fully come down again some day so that I can live without irrational fear.