About the one thing that gnaws at me again and again. Too much time to myself, alone, wondering, longing, imagining, pondering. That I sometimes am, on my better days.īut on my lonely days, I am this. To be someone so indepedent and loving and fulfilled that doesn’t even need to long about romantic love, that instead is the embodiment of love, that is a magnet for love- is a distant goal. I know I am in control of myself, but sometimes it doesnt feel that way. But living in a big city, being an introvert, having social anxiety doesnt give me a lot of opportunity. We, I, am bioligically wired for sex, physical touch, emotional intimacy, for love. Yet, I still mull over my fantasy of it, wonder about it, especially on days where I am aimless and alone. Like anything else, it takes time and effort.
And that love is not an instant fix for my problems, nor an instant result. I am learning that my idea of love is rooted in fantasy. I am learning to find love in friends and hobbies and the little joys. it always feels like the forbidden fruit that i have never been able to reach. I want to know it, feel it, understand it. I surround myself with it dating apps, dating shows, books, podcasts.
When im lonely or bored or am not really working towards something, I tend to fantasize about love.
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