I always go back and forth
between being ok with never finding “the one” and having hopes for having my own happily ever after with a love of my own. On one hand I like my solitude, I like being able to pick up and go without having to schedule around anyone else other than myself. I like being able to take care of myself and shamelessly indulge in my random obsessions.
As much as I’m ok with my selfishness and my aloofness, I envy the women who managed to find the love of their lives who accept them for who they are and love every flaw and quirk no matter how “strange” they are. I envy women who have someone they can trust with their lives and know at the end of a terrible day they can go home to someone who seems to erase it all. A little part of me still hopes to find “the one”. The one who can look at me and tell somethings wrong, someone intuitive enough to save me before I realize I needed to be saved in the first place.
Not everyone is lucky enough to fall in love...I just hope the ones who do, love hard enough for the rest of us.
