I Want a Kipton, or a Reid, or an Ed...

Ok, I'm embarrassed. I watch the Bachorlette. I don't watch the Bachelor, but when the Bachelorette comes on, damn, I'm there.

And tonight is the finale. And I'm watching these three men tell Juliette that they love her, and I'm watching her turn Kipton down. I'm watching her turn Reid down. And I'm watching her say YES to Ed. And I can't help but think, "I want one man to be in love with me." I want to be in love with one man. When will I get that?

On a day-to-day basis, I'm not searching for love. I don't care that I don't "have someone." I'm okay with who I am; who I am alone. But I've spent so much time by myself; I've spent so much time learning to be whole, to battle my demons; to figure out what I'm looking for, for who I want. I know I'm young. I know I'm a baby. I know I want years, and years, and years with someone before I marry (if I decide I want to go that route) him. I know that.

But I also know that I am ready. I also know that I want someone to be in love with me. I want someone to think the sun rises and falls on me. And I want to think the same about him. I want someone to turn to in my most joyous moments and in my deepest heartaches. I want someone who cares what happened during my day, just because it affects me. I want to curl my body around someone at night. I want someone to call when I have exciting or devastating news. I want someone who cares about me--mind, body, and soul. And I want to care the same way.

I want what so many people have.

And though I try, it's so hard not to doubt that it will happen for me. That somehow I'm exempt from the possibility of that happening. That somehow, for some reason, my body, my traumas, my passions, my whatever will keep love from coming my way. That I will forever be without that experience. I will be without love.

I like to believe that I can survive without having "someone." I like to believe that all I need is myself. And sometimes, I believe it. And sometimes, I am all I need.

But, I want more. Even if only for a short amount of time, I want love.

I want love.



(And at the most romantic part of the show, the ice cream truck goes by. SO perfect).

Every Day

I come up with something new to write about every day. And then I decide it isn't worth it, or I'm too tired, or I get caught up in something else. I don't even wonder why I have such a hard time writing anymore. I no longer question why there's a hole, a longing, in me that can only be filled with the written word; why my "soul" feels emptier and my life seems heavier. I know why. I know that I don't take the time to nourish what kept me alive for most of my life. I know that I've let responsibilities to others come first. I've let things I don't even really like come first. I've tossed writing aside and told myself that it'll always be there; I'll always be able to come back to it. It'll never leave me. So, instead, I leave it. I leave and I let myself get a little bit further away every day.