(via la-glamoureuse)

As lonely as I am, I don’t really want a relationship right now.

I don’t think I have ever not wanted a relationship, except during the healing process when my ex broke my heart. EVER. October 29th, let’s remember the day.

Kind of takes the meaning out of my life, right now. But I realized that anything I were to start, I would want to be long-term, because that’s just how I function. But I graduate in May, and I don’t want to be tied down in any way, especially for something that would be only seven months in the making. And that’s if I started a relationship today! I want to be able to do as I please and follow my dreams, and not have to compromise for someone else. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe I’m naive.

But I think the timing is just wrong. I’ve been single forever, and so so ready to be serious with someone again, so it pains and shocks me to realize that right now, I. Am. Not. Ready. After all this time waiting, my heart would not be ready to say goodbye.

I never foresaw anything serious cropping up soon anyway. But now I’m going to stop looking for it. It won’t be worth it.

October 29th. I just said love isn’t worth it.

Now that’s a first.

It would almost slip out sometimes, when I wasn’t paying close enough attention to my words – the “L Bomb.” It tried several times to escape during that final, deep intake of breath at the end of a particularly hard laughing fit. It fought away from my lips that I could barely keep clasped together when we stared at each other late at night, struggling to control our teenage antics.

It caught me by surprise how soon I started thinking about you in that way, and I was sure you thought about me the same. But I didn’t want to give in, not just yet; I didn’t want to be that guy who fell in love too fast. There was no fighting it, though. I loved you just as much then as I did when I finally let it explode. And when that bomb went off, we stood together in awe of the effects. I remember the vibrant colors, and the rush of air as the world flew around us, and the feeling of your arm around my shoulder while we gazed forever upwards at the greatest spectacle of our lives.

I never expected the dust to settle so soon, covering my world with endless grays, when I had finally gotten used to the gold of your eyes. When I had finally started to believe I actually deserved to live in a world of color.

That smell. It’s so familiar, where does it come from? I can’t place it, in the physical sense, the here and now. It follows me, it’s evanescent, it comes and it goes. But in the meaningful sense, the then and never again, its place is ingrained in me forever. It’s in my blood, under my skin, on my lips. It’s you.

I find you in my sheets, where you haven’t lain. In my new room at my new place, in a different town, a different state. I find you there when my eyes are closed and the sun is away. I find myself in your arms, where I lay many times. In those same old clothes, with those same old songs playing. I find myself there when my eyes are closed and the sun is near.

You roll over and I awaken, and find that I’m smiling. I quickly remember I have nothing to smile about. I roll over and take a deep breath, desperate to find a trace of you again. But you’re gone. I can’t control when you show up. No point trying to sleep again, it won’t come. I throw my legs over the edge and put my head in my hands. No point trying to cry again, it won’t come.

The stark white of the bathroom and the bitter blandness of my morning coffee reinforce that this is my reality. No more bleary-eyed smiles or sweet kisses. No more finding you in the kitchen frying eggs a little too long for my liking. You’re gone. Forever. No more. Then and never again.

I have moved on, in the physical sense. The places where our memories were made are not places I frequent. I’ve abandoned them, like you abandoned me. I’ve passed mountains and rivers, crossed oceans and continents. But in the meaningful sense, I can’t get away from your face, from your touch, but especially from your smell. They hold on to me.

And when the sun is away and I close my eyes, I find you in my sheets and I hold on to you.

Somehow I let the fear get inside. It slips in and takes me unawares, forcing a sharp intake of breath which allows nervousness and anxiety to find their way. They take hold, staking claim from my head to my stomach, bringing dizziness and queasiness. They surround my lungs so that I can’t breathe, and infiltrate all limbs so I can’t walk or hold myself up. The last to surrender, my heart alone fights them off as if to shout “you have no business here,” but it fatigues and weakens. The turmoil forms tears which well up inside my whole body and yet don’t come, for it is instead your gaze which meets my eyes, and your hand which encompasses mine. With one touch you end my struggle, and exile the fear which consumes me when you are not near. With you my heart will always be the victor.

I don’t know why I am so dependent on other people.

In one sense, I’m quite independent. I like spending time with other people, but I thrive on having enough alone time, too. There’s definitely a balance that I try to maintain, when I can control it.

But in another sense, I’m massively codependent. All I really care about is finding someone else who I can share my life with. And it’s not because of society telling us we need to grow up and start a family as soon as possible. It’s because it’s the one thing I genuinely want more than anything else.

But why? I’m the one who takes care of my basic needs. I feed myself, clean myself, and I never leave my own side. I’m the only person who has always been and always will be a part of my life. I should be able to make myself happy.

But the simple truth of the matter is that I can’t. There are many things I am capable of, and making myself happy is not one of those things. I mean on a permanent basis. I can be happy for a few hours or for a day when I’m with friends, but it ends soon enough. It generally ends as soon as I am by myself. As soon as I have nothing to do but contemplate being alone.

So why, then, do I crave alone time as much as I long for someone else’s company? The one person who always has been and always will be, is the same person who makes me the most miserable.

I ache for the simplest of feelings. A hand in mine, little smiles for no reason at all, being able to share stupid moments without being thought of as stupid.

But mostly I ache to know, even when I am by myself, that I am not alone.

You’re three sides of my eight-sided circle, two lovers juxtaposed with doorways