I always come back to this.
Sometimes something good will happen, and Iāll feel happy, or at least okay. Better. But I always come back to this.
The depression doesnāt go away. But it does give you false hope. It will hide away quietly and let you have a few precious moments of peace and maybe even joy; but then it comes back like a storm: you hear the thunder rumbling in the back of your head, and you know what it means. You better make it to cover, but that still wonāt save you.
I met someone. Or remet someone. We grew up in the same town. They remember me more than I can remember them. They were a completely different person then.
We connected on so many levels, they said and did all the right things. They told me I said and did all the right things. And the storm that had been building inside of me for the past few weeks withdrew, daring me to try again. And again and again and again. I always try again.
But then told me they werenāt ready, even though they said and did all the right things and I said and did all the right things.
Was I too much? Again? Absolutely.
Itās always me. I am always too much and not enough. I love so easily, but so hard. I always fall first. I always get my heart broken. Again and again. And thatās okay. Iāll take the heartbreaks every time if it means Iām not the one breaking hearts. Itās okay because there will always be another time, to feel as though the depression is going away, leaving the door open for love. True love. Itās okay because the chance to find true love is worth a couple dozen broken hearts, right?
Was I too much? I touch too much, I kiss too much, I stare and smile and giggle and cling too much. I donāt know how to be just enough. Is this why the depression is coming back, and telling me Iāll always be single? It laughs and rumbles in the back of my head, but itās getting louder and closer and darker.
I want to say Iām okay. Iām not that upset by this person backing off. Their reasons are good and valid and understandable, and Iām okay.
But if I had not been too much, and instead been just enough, would the storm be hanging over my head? Probably not.
Is it silly to still want true love in 2022? Does it even exist anymore? Or are all the happy couples on social media trying to ignore their own storms hanging over their heads?
Will I try again, to find someone? Always. Even if I know it will likely end in another broken heart for me? Every time.
I guess thatās what happens when youāre a masochistic hopeless romantic who watches too many movies and is always too much.
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