When I was growing up I was never someone who envisioned how their life would turn out. Sure, I had plans, like for my career and where I might end up with it. But when it came to love, there was never a clear vision; everything sort of seemed foggy.
I always wanted to be that person that had it all figured out when it came to love and relationships. But if I’m being honest, I still have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve had my fair share of heartbreaks and happiness with dating. Some people have stayed locked into my heart for longer than they deserve, while some have burned bridges bigger than anything life could conjure up. Some made me utter those three words and actually mean it, while others made me fake it, and more things as well, as a way to not let them go for fear that that’s the best I’ll ever get.
But I think the older I get the more I realize how miserable and unhealthy a lot of my past relationships were and made me. I always say I never regret dating someone. Each person taught me a lesson I take with me to next one and the next one. They give me inspiration and tell me what I want and don’t want for my next person and myself as well. And even though that person isn’t in my life anymore and as much as I’d prefer to not have those memories we shared play throughout my head like a broken record, the truth is, at the time it was what I needed and I’m thankful for them.
Lately I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope, trying so hard to balance out a person and myself. Giving in more effort whereas they can’t even meet me halfway. Getting upset with them and doing stupid things like texting an ex because you know they can give you at least one thing and it’s not commitment.
Sometimes I like to think I self-sabotage love on purpose. Because I’ve gotten so good at giving someone a chance, letting them in, and then slowly letting them go. I don’t really know how to make someone last because I never allow it to get to that stage. The one where you can feel them becoming more than just a stranger you met at a restaurant on a Friday night in December. The type of person who you can easily memorize the contours of their face, the freckles around their nose, and color of their eyes because it’s the clearest blue you’ve ever seen you still don’t believe it’s real.
But I want to make it go to that stage, I just don’t know when the right person will come for that. Maybe I’m selfish and don’t see it right in front of my eyes in this moment. Or maybe I’ve gotten so comfortable with contentment that I’m not able to blatantly see that what I may think I have isn’t that at all.
I’m so sick of apologizing for reaching out too much, for feeling the need to rely on someone, and not knowing what I am to someone.
I may not have known what I wanted when it came to love when I was young. But I know what I want and deserve now and it’s not this.
Don’t ever settle for fifty percent, always expect that hundred.
Most likely writing in my journals or notes in my phone, burying my face in a book, at a concert, laughing or eating fries. Recent college graduate with a ridiculous dream of wanting to write for a living.