By Chelsea Rufo
I was envious of their love.
The love we constantly see portrayed
on our television screens. I always
dreamt of experiencing that same
blissful love,
the type of love where forever
wasn't impossible
and every little thing in life was what
we appreciated together.
The silly little thing we call love;
I wanted that for myself so desperately
and looked forward to one day meeting the person I
would share that love with,
but what I didn't realize at the time was
that love could only last so long
while hurt seemed to last an eternity and
the loneliness that accompanied it would
feel this crippling
as if it consumed my entire being.
But, what makes my words seem so absurd is
that I have, in fact,
never received love from someone else, at
least not in the romantic sense.
No one ever looked at me with those eyes, the
ones dripping with honey.
No one ever bought me flowers or
felt giddy around me.
No one ever wanted to hold my hands and
warm them up on a cold winter day. No
one.
Not even one.
Only in my dreams have
I ever experienced
the love I've always wanted
where someone would wrap me in their arms, and
bring me on small dates,
all while never feeling embarrassed
about being with me in the first place.
It's weird isn't it,
how I could imagine all the good
without ever thinking about
the possibility of bad, all
the could have been
arguments, manipulation,
cheating, and lying.
I loved the idea of love,
but the reality of it all really terrified me.
How was I supposed to give
my everything into something
that could fall apart
so easily at any time of day?
I thought I spent my entire youth
trying to find love elsewhere,
for someone else to give me the same love I
knew I would be able to give them,
and yet only is it now that I realized. I
wasn't chasing after love,
I was chasing after something so
perfect, impossible, and unreal.
Maybe all I wanted was for someone to care, care
about me in the same way
the main hero would stop at nothing to
do all the little things
that made the heroine feel
like they had someone to lean on
for the rest of their life,
but no one did.
So, I cared for myself
I learned to love myself
and every little imperfection I
thought I needed to change
for someone else to love me.
Because waiting for the perfect person to do so
"is like waiting for rain in this drought,
useless and disappointing."
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