At the current state, I’m single—kinda wish I wasn’t. Honestly being single isn’t bad; I’ve been single everyday for the past 20 years. It wasn’t until this year have I finally found the elusive concept of “love.”
“That thing, that moment when you kiss someone and everything around you becomes hazy and the only thing in focus is you and this person and you realize that that person is the only person you’re supposed to kiss for the rest of your life. And for one moment you get this amazing gift, and you wanna laugh, and you wanna cry… ‘cause you feel so lucky that you found it and so scared that it’ll go away all at the same time.”
Those feelings of being with someone are more amazing than I thought: all your feelings of loneliness disappear in the company of that special person. Your heart races with sheer joy, a euphoria I can’t explain. When you have it, you just want to cling to it cause you’re afraid it won’t happen a second time. That period after you’ve broken up and you become single once again hurts the most because all you can think about is that other person, wondering where it all went wrong, and how things could have went differently. It feels like that missing puzzle piece that was supposed to complete you is ripped out or that half of you is missing. So I guess that’s where I’m at right now in my “single” life: the recovery period with 2 months in. I’m the fool that falls hard because I always put all my cards in cause I’m a helpless romantic; I’ve dreamed of falling in love and sharing this intoxicating amount of “love” I have within me with someone special.