I don’t write enough. That needs to change.
I’ve thought a lot about “The One” and “Mr. Right” and “The One That Got Away” over the last few years. I wonder how true it is. I wonder if my thoughts on the matter will change as I grow older. Surely it will, it’s not like I’m knocking on heaven’s door. Right?
It’s been years. Actual years. But I’ve never been able to shake him. This isn’t my first post about him and I doubt it will be my last. I’m out somewhere having a great time and I find myself wishing he was there to share it with me. I see something and think how much he’d enjoy it or laugh at it. I’m feeling sick and I wish he were there to help me. I’m depressed and I wish he was there to cuddle with me while watching ridiculous, weird movies. I’ll be sitting there daydreaming about him just showing up at my door or at work and I wish it would come true.
I just know, deep down, that if he were simply sharing my life with me, I’d feel better. And not always in that, “I’m sad and he’ll make me feel better,” way. In that, “This is so fun and it would be even MORE fun if he were here, he would enjoy this so much!” He’s everywhere. And I liked myself so much when he was a part of my life. I felt like I had myself figured out, I learned about myself and I changed and found ways that I wanted to be better.
I wish we had found each other later. I think things would have been different if we weren’t so young when we met. We would have been more mature, healthier, we wouldn’t have destroyed each other like we did. So I have to wonder if we will “find each other” again later. When we are more mature, when we are healthier people. But I can’t count on that, so I have to keep on keepin’ on and just… see. I’m tired of “just seeing.”
Whenever I think about my future, my husband-house-kids future, I see stability. I see familiarity and partnership and hopefully adorable children. I see myself happy. I honestly do see that. What I don’t see is head over heels love. I don’t see being in love. I don’t see passion. I don’t see that connection I had with him. I don’t expect that. I don’t think I need that to be happy, I think I can be perfectly content without it, but it isn’t really pleasant to think about. Especially because I had that.
But then I remind myself that I am just shy of my 26th birthday, not my 86th. I have forever. Forever and ever to fall in love again. Really truly in love. I saw a post on Word Porn [a Facebook page everyone should “like,” by the way] that said something along the lines of, “Give a big round of applause for your second love, because they taught you love still exists after you thought it never could again.” I’m ready for that second love.
That brings up so much other stuff though. I am honestly, truly, NOT interested in a relationship right now. I don’t want a boyfriend, I don’t want someone all over me, I don’t want to let anyone close to me. Part of that, hell almost all of that, is because the one who got away also managed to destroy so much of my ability to trust in anyone else. To let someone else close to me is like… *shudders* I just don’t want that. But I sure as hell can’t find that second love without like… dating. And dating is a most horrid form of torture. Not to mention a recent, unfortunate diagnosis that affects everything and completely changes the game. None of this sounds like anything I want to do. I really want it to just… happen, you know? I don’t want to have to work for it, I want to stumble into love. I want to be surprised by it. I want it to happen in such a way that it just occurs to me one day that, holy shit, this is it, huh?
But there’s still a small part of me that thinks I already had it, and a bigger part that wants me to get that one back.