It comes and goes in waves, like the ones I used to get up at 5 am for to watch as the morning sun slowly and lovingly peeped over them, the realization that I have been completely single for 5 years now.
The day the earth stood still, was when the last, and only, person that I dated, had gotten into a relationship. He was my first love, and I will always have a fondness for him.
When I saw the relationship status on facebook, my heart didn’t break. It wasn’t like I still had feelings I was lying to myself about or anything like that, but rather, I didn’t know how to breathe.
I want him to be happy, of course I do, and I always knew that it was never going to be from me again. But this selfish and nasty part of me was angry that he was getting a happiness that I feel has been so cruelly stolen from me over the past 5 years.
And I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, life isn’t all about relationships, blah blah blah. But I am a woman of consistency. Funny, those words coming from my mouth. I almost don’t believe them.
You would think I’m lying, me, the girl who can never stay in one place for too long, can’t hang out with her friends too much without needing a break, or can’t even make up her mind about who she is and where she’s going.
But maybe that’s all because I’ve never had consistency. Not in my family, only in a small handful of friends, and definitely, definitely not in my potential love life. I look at my friends who are happy and in love, and I just want that. I know it’s not something I need, and hell, I’d be lying if I said I was unhappy with my life.
I am happy with my life. I know that I do not need love or a relationship to maintain that, so why does it feel so wrong to want to be loved? To want someone to help you carry/unload a bag or two? To want someone to help unload theirs? To want to fight with someone, and then to make up with them and know that it’s real, that it’s worth it?
Why do I always get a tiny, tiny taste of being wanted by another person, someone I could see myself entwining with, only for it to be ripped away by unfortunate and immovable circumstances?
Will this be all that I ever have? A whole life of almosts? A whole life of wondering what could have been with those people? A whole life of wondering why I can’t just have that here, right on my doorstep?