One day, someone knocks at your door, introduces his name, and then you’ll wake-up surprised with the reality that you are no longer strangers anymore.
I absolutely loved being single. I saw my life as mine and only mine. Any decision I made was all mine to make.
I don’t believe in The One.
Some people fondly remember the “honeymoon phase” of their relationships, secretly longing to go back to when everything seemed perfect. Not me.
There are literally billions of people living on this planet, so why is it so difficult to find one person to put up with us?
When you’re young you think love is easy, that your expression of this complex and overwhelming feeling will be found often and shared frequently. What you learn when you’re older is that love is rarely black and white. People can love you in the “I’m not in love with you” kind-of-way, they can be on the verge of loving you, or the worst: they can express to you that they only think they love you.
I loved you deeply and profoundly and without any regard to the consequence.
Truly we get each other. In the weird way your best friend gets you. We laugh at jokes only we think are funny, we crave the same food at the same time, we share our secrets and binge watch crime shows together. Most importantly, we get how to make each other happy.
It’s easy to lose yourself over a man, but what if it happens before you even meet him? Ill-fated past relationships may have already warped your dating personality and consequently sabotaged your future with someone else.
A state of philophobia.