'There's a lot of things that are instilled in us from birth, but there's one that will always be man's downfall. The idea that there is one person who can complete you. It's all over the TV, the silver screen, books, in every day conversation. Your soul mate, or whatever word is popular for it this week. The point being, it is pretty much a given that this is the only goal you MUST achieve before you die, or otherwise you've failed. Your life, the most precious gift of all, according to some, has been a waste if one person at least hasn't been in love with you.
I've been told before, that I was loved, but every time was a lie, for they all left. And platonic love cannot replace the romantic kind, as much as we would like for it to sometimes. The truth is that I've never been loved. Completely. Fully. With abandon, with someone's entirety.
I've failed at the universe's most important task.
I know that love does not make one whole. It certainly didn't make me whole, but I tried. I'll always be flawed; I know that. But I loved anyway. Freely. Happily. Only to have it thrown back in my face. My most precious gift, some would say, and it was always returned, and never gift-wrapped. Always tattered. Always a mess.
I used to wonder why. Why was my love not important enough? Why was my love discarded so easily? And then it hit me. My love is just like I am; mundane. Ordinary. Nothing special, most certainly not a precious gift.
I wish it weren't so. More than anything, I wish I could be one of those people who are easy to fall in love with. But I'm not. Of course I'm not; how can I be that way when I'm not even worthy enough to see?
I'm addicted to the feeling of a new relationship. It's not something I actively pursue, but once it's there, there's nothing I enjoy more. I love the moment of getting to know someone. The rush I feel the first time you hold hands. Every time I hold someone's hand for the first time, I feel like I'm in middle school, relishing in this new and unfamiliar feeling of being desirable. Of someone wanting to be close to you. I love first kisses; the anticipation, the sweet relief, the neverending possibility of what the kiss was going to lead to you next. I love soft touches, adoring gazes, first compliments. There's nothing quite like it.
I miss it, horribly. I've been alone for a while now; I don't know if it's by choice yet or not. But I do miss it. Every day I long for a hug, to feel engulfed, to be held like I'm precious. Every day I long for a lingering gaze, a kind word, something...anything...that reminds me that I'm special to someone. I miss it in ways I can never express.
I miss the feel of hands on me. I miss the way someone holds you like you're going to float away if they let you go. I miss the feel of eyelashes blinking against my skin, miss the hunger in their eyes when they look at you, miss the way someone can breathe their secrets into your skin until you can feel them vibrating in your heart.
I miss being special, being adored so much, that if any of my exes walked back into my life, asking me to take them back, I would. It wouldn't matter to me how much they had hurt me, how broken I had felt when they left. I would take them back, because I want to be loved. I want to be adored. I would forgive their every slight, every mistake, every callous word and action, if it meant I didn't have to go to bed alone at night.
I might be meant to be alone, but I don't want to be. I find myself sometimes brushing my own hands against my skin, just to feel a touch. But touches are meaningless when there's no feeling, no love, behind it. So I lay in bed, clutching my blankets, clutching my pillow, clutching anything I can so I don't feel so alone. They're inanimate objects, but it's all I have. Really, I'm just...lonely.
I miss sex, I suppose, but I really miss love the most. The security, the comfort of knowing someone is there, someone is taking their time with you...no one takes time with me anymore. I don't know what the hell I'm trying to say. It's just so cold inside of me, and I'd give anything right now to be warm.'
I've been told before, that I was loved, but every time was a lie, for they all left. And platonic love cannot replace the romantic kind, as much as we would like for it to sometimes. The truth is that I've never been loved. Completely. Fully. With abandon, with someone's entirety.
I've failed at the universe's most important task.
I know that love does not make one whole. It certainly didn't make me whole, but I tried. I'll always be flawed; I know that. But I loved anyway. Freely. Happily. Only to have it thrown back in my face. My most precious gift, some would say, and it was always returned, and never gift-wrapped. Always tattered. Always a mess.
I used to wonder why. Why was my love not important enough? Why was my love discarded so easily? And then it hit me. My love is just like I am; mundane. Ordinary. Nothing special, most certainly not a precious gift.
I wish it weren't so. More than anything, I wish I could be one of those people who are easy to fall in love with. But I'm not. Of course I'm not; how can I be that way when I'm not even worthy enough to see?
I'm addicted to the feeling of a new relationship. It's not something I actively pursue, but once it's there, there's nothing I enjoy more. I love the moment of getting to know someone. The rush I feel the first time you hold hands. Every time I hold someone's hand for the first time, I feel like I'm in middle school, relishing in this new and unfamiliar feeling of being desirable. Of someone wanting to be close to you. I love first kisses; the anticipation, the sweet relief, the neverending possibility of what the kiss was going to lead to you next. I love soft touches, adoring gazes, first compliments. There's nothing quite like it.
I miss it, horribly. I've been alone for a while now; I don't know if it's by choice yet or not. But I do miss it. Every day I long for a hug, to feel engulfed, to be held like I'm precious. Every day I long for a lingering gaze, a kind word, something...anything...that reminds me that I'm special to someone. I miss it in ways I can never express.
I miss the feel of hands on me. I miss the way someone holds you like you're going to float away if they let you go. I miss the feel of eyelashes blinking against my skin, miss the hunger in their eyes when they look at you, miss the way someone can breathe their secrets into your skin until you can feel them vibrating in your heart.
I miss being special, being adored so much, that if any of my exes walked back into my life, asking me to take them back, I would. It wouldn't matter to me how much they had hurt me, how broken I had felt when they left. I would take them back, because I want to be loved. I want to be adored. I would forgive their every slight, every mistake, every callous word and action, if it meant I didn't have to go to bed alone at night.
I might be meant to be alone, but I don't want to be. I find myself sometimes brushing my own hands against my skin, just to feel a touch. But touches are meaningless when there's no feeling, no love, behind it. So I lay in bed, clutching my blankets, clutching my pillow, clutching anything I can so I don't feel so alone. They're inanimate objects, but it's all I have. Really, I'm just...lonely.
I miss sex, I suppose, but I really miss love the most. The security, the comfort of knowing someone is there, someone is taking their time with you...no one takes time with me anymore. I don't know what the hell I'm trying to say. It's just so cold inside of me, and I'd give anything right now to be warm.'
The first time I read this, it hit me deep down and I really didn't know what to think. Reading it again now, it's the same.
I have been in love for a while now but all that person seems to do now is hurt me, discard my feelings, rejecting my love and giving it back to me tattered and torn. I know I will get over it at some point, but I guess, even though I don't fall in love easily, I'll survive.
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