I lose myself a lot more than I should.
Lately, I am more of the sum of the way I love other people, care for them, than how I value myself. I see myself more of the way other people perceive of me to be.
I am tired of being everyone’s go-to person. I am tired of having to carry all of the weight they should be carrying themselves. I am so tired of having this wall built around me. I am so tired of shallow talks and beneath the surface conversations. I am not made of anything smooth. I am not worth your time if your time is meant for random hello’s and goodbye’s and damn! I am just so exhausted from having to keep smiling when I want to talk. I want someone to spill stories to. I want a reason to write and speak and laugh. I want a reason to cry. I want a reason to feel. I cannot keep pretending I do not need someone. I need someone. I am in need of someone to be my own ray of happy, the good in the morning, the sweet found in my coffee, the bliss of my nights and the comfort of my sheets; I do not need someone to kiss. I need a hand to hold.
I think I have found solitude in the amount of days that gone by. I bring myself home from drunken nights and rise to the brightness of the day- alone. And for unsolicited moments, I am okay. I am more than fine. I have managed to find sanctity in the glory of walking alone, of seeking isolation, of seeing how it is necessary and beneficial. I refused to give in to the feeling of needing home because I believed I am my own family. I found love in my Mom and Dad, in my few best friends. I have found love in my program. I found love in everything my heart opened itself to. I have forgotten, however, that loving my family and getting loved in return are the basics to yearning for something more. And now it’s too late- because as I am content by myself, I start realizing I can never be truly happy living with the fact.