I was born with a heart full of love. I loved my family, I loved the beach, I loved books, I loved my friends, I loved the trees, I loved to play. I loved and I loved and I loved and I felt this love bursting from my heart at all times. Sappy, I know. But I loved so much it felt like it consumed my entire being. And it was enough.
It wasn’t till later, that suddenly I felt like maybe all this love consuming me, wasn’t enough, because I didn’t love like that. Heck, I even loved the idea of being in love, like that, for a time anyways, but throughout my teens years romance never danced my way.
It wasn’t until my early twenties, when I fell head over heals for this girl that I thought maybe finally- finally!- I had found the kind of love that was supposedly “greater” than all others. But the more I thought about her, the more I realized that while my feelings for her were great, they weren’t those sort of feelings. While I wanted something different than friendship, I knew I definitely didn’t want romance either. I was pretty easy after that to realize I was aromantic, the hard part was accepting and loving that part of myself.
I had gotten so close to this girl and in the end, could not give her the type of relationship I thought I was suppose to. For the longest time I thought all this love I had for her, all this love flowing inside me, was not enough. I couldn’t understand why. My love seemed so good and pure, even if it wasn’t romantic love, so why couldn’t it be enough? It didn’t help that at the time that I had a person in my life who made me feel weird and inhuman because I wasn’t going out on dates and had no interest in “talking to the boys.” *Insert eye roll here.*
As I read books and poems and experiences by fellow aromantics, however, I felt acceptance. I saw a world where who I was and the love I had to give was good enough. Eventually even, with help of my friends (who may or may not know what a role they played), I realized that the love I had to give could be better than romantic love.
Figuring out and accepting my aro identity to me meant that I could not only accept myself for who I am, but also love myself, completely, for who I am. It meant I could celebrate myself and what I had to give the world, because what I had to give was good enough. Heck, sometimes, it’s even better!