sliced papaya

Perhaps I was not meant to be in love. We are taught that this is a sad thing to say, a lonely, "giving up" sort of thing, but it doesn't feel that way, typed on the screen like that. I think it feels automatic to translate this to "Perhaps I don't deserve to be loved, I am not worth being loved" -- bah, humbug. That is not what I mean at all. I simply mean, Perhaps I was not meant to be in love.

Perhaps I will love one day, to the my heart's greatest ability, perhaps I will cherish another the way some people do, when they are happy just to be sitting next to someone. Perhaps one day I will be loved so fully and completely by another that his heart will feel bursty and light whenever he sees me. And perhaps these two things will never occur in the same instance, with the same person. Is it strange to be okay with that?

I am not giving up. I just don't know anymore. I used to be certain that there was someone, someday, somewhere. And maybe there is. I've had glimpses of that, I am sure. I've been holding all the wrong hands and batting my eyelashes at all the wrong people in the process. I know, I can see you now, shaking your head and aching for me to see my own worth! Settle down, I don't mean to devalue myself. I am just wondering. Maybe some are meant to be alone.

I will never lose my desire to be known, that painful aching from my stomach to my heart that wants to be loved and cherished and protected and adored. None of us ever do. But perhaps that desire is not meant to be fulfilled here. Not now.

[My friend told me the delete button is harsh. If it weren't for her saying that today, I may not have published this post. "Sometimes things get, whatever."]