I’m lonely tonight.
It doesn’t hit me often, but when it does, it hits me hard.
I’ve been single for two and half years now, which is the longest I’ve been single ever since I started getting myself wrapped up in serious relationships. I was always so anxious to be in a relationship when I was younger because society told me that’s what teenagers did. I wanted it so badly that I was willing to fit myself around people that weren’t right for me, and it only got worse after my first break-up. I craved the companionship and, admittedly, the attention. I would pluck and tweak and hide parts of myself to please my crushes, because I wanted them to like me, because I wanted to be what they needed.
The only thing that did was land me in two different relationships that I shouldn’t have been in.
That isn’t to say that I regret either of them — I learned a lot about myself and what I want, and I never would have figured it out otherwise. It’s just that, in retrospect, I don’t think I was ever really in love with either of them. I loved them of course (they were both lovely people) but there was never any passion. Puppy love, sure. Dedication, definitely. But when the times got hard, there was no driving force to pull us back together, and I think that was because I wasn’t being myself. I wasn’t really there. I was in another room, curating and displaying the proper traits and interests. There was always a wall erected between the two of us, and I know now that I was the one who put it there. In at least one case, I definitely left some damage in my wake because of that. I don’t know the specifics; I broke up with her and basically disappeared before moving 3,000 miles across the country. I’ll be the first to say that I’m not good at handling fallout. I’m working on it.
So, that’s the past, but what’s next? I’ve been asking myself that question ever since I moved here. I’ve changed so much as a person and gotten so much better at owning myself in my entirety, but what will that mean in my next relationship? I won’t know until it’s happening, I guess. I just can’t help but wonder what sort of person will be drawn to this new, more complete me. Or who I’ll be drawn to, for that matter. My curiosity is so strong sometimes I can feel it welling up in my chest, but all I can do is wait.
I don’t do well with that.
I like control as much as I like love, and the two of those things don’t exactly exist on the same plane. In my perfect world, I would announce that I was ready for another shot and someone would come strolling right on into my life. I’ve written a thousand meet cutes in my head with myself acting alongside cashiers, retail workers, strangers outside concert venues. I’m too much of a romantic not to daydream. Sometimes, though, it drives that lonely little knife into my heart and then I end up here: sitting alone in my bedroom, pouring all of these thoughts into the vacuum of the internet. It makes me feel so small when I think about just how many people there are out there. The idea that I have to try and meet just one of them at exactly the right time is terrifying. It sounds impossible. But it happens all the time. I have to keep telling myself that eventually it will be my turn again.