They keep telling you to wait, that you’ll find them when you stop looking for them, that love isn’t necessary for a meaningful life. Platitudes heaped on words that are meant to be comforting but instead, just intensify the magnitude of your despair. And the fact that you crave love so brazenly makes you even sadder, if that was even possible. Because you should be capable of finding happiness within yourself - in the way you laugh at corny jokes told by your best friend’s kid brother because you like making him smile. In your passions, in the act of creation, in learning the how’s and whens and what’s and why’s.
It should be enough - this life that you live and even sometimes, love. You’ve been working on that recently, snatching up the bad with a heavy hand and slowly adding good things. Things that calm the near constant shaking of your leg and the heartbeat that churns anxiously in your chest. You’ve been finding the magic in taking yourself out, in eating alone and not feeling like a failure for not having company.
But it isn’t enough. And you aren’t sure how much longer you can wait. We don’t live in an easy world, one with constants to rely on and people who never leave. We take a deep breath and a bomb goes off in an airplane hanger. We blink and 23 people are dead in the high school down the street from the home we grew up in. Nothing is guaranteed - not life, not love, not anything that makes the little time we have on Earth worth living. And you don’t know how to say that you trust that one day, you’ll fall in love. But you’re not sure that the world will let you live long enough to find out.
And besides, why should you have to wait? You want what your friends cancel plans on you for. You want what your momma rambles on about as she collapses on the couch after her third glass of wine. You want the Harry Met Sally kind of love and the Breakfast at Tiffany’s kind of love and the innocent teenage movie kind of love. You want the fiction that was whispered to you when you were alone, reading books in the corner of a classroom that nobody ever bothered to look into.
So here you are slowly growing into a person that doesn’t disgust you. You have dreams and ambitions and even though they scare your father half to death, you pursue them with open palms and a brave heart. And still, you yearn for love, for that person who will fill the cavity that opened up in your chest the first time you saw someone smile against someone else’s lips.
I wish I had an answer for you, an ‘it’ll get better’ for you. But I’m you too - trying to find a way to stop hating myself and hoping (foolishly) that someone will find something worth loving in all the parts of myself that I don’t have the courage to look at. And maybe that’s not healthy, maybe it’s up to me to fix myself before I look for anyone else. But my momma used to say that some things have to be loved before they are rendered lovable. And some really reckless part of my heart hopes that someone will hurry up and prove her right.
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