If I were to be honest with myself, I’d admit that, despite labeling myself this hopeless romantic, I’m not in a place to be dating anyone right now.

I’m quick to make jokes about self-sabotage. My mom questions why I write so much about being open to opportunities, but when I’m away from the computer (you know, where it’s safe), I run in the opposite direction. I smile politely and say no. I don’t text back. I turn into this horrible character that nobody wants to be.

When it’s quiet and no one is around to give me an answer I don’t want to hear, I ask myself, “Have I become as heartless as the ones who hurt me?”

I’ve got a long laundry list of excuses to throw your way. I’ll call my relationship pattern as messed up as I am. I’ll assume the identity of my therapist and come up with reasons I ended up this way.

I’ll tell you I never got over my Big Love (which isn’t true). I’ll say I don’t have time (which also isn’t true).

I’ll give you a thousand reasons why I’m just not ready for love.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve talked about how much of a priority love is in my life. I’m at my best when I’m in love, when I have someone to be my partner. I get high off adoring someone, finding little things to make them smile or feel appreciated. I’m a better person when I’ve got my person.

And sure, all of that is true. Or, at least it was at some point. It’s becoming a fading memory. Something I know I felt in the past, but it’s getting fuzzy. A blurry re-telling of who I used to be.

I’m not sure when I became so content in being alone.

It’s comfortable to me now. It feels like home, a place I can sit in unbothered. A place I am free to be me.

I fall for people quickly or not at all. I know within the first 15 minutes of meeting someone if I’m going to stay up late thinking about them. And that’s a lot of pressure to put on social interactions. It’s terrifying. It makes being alone a much safer option.

I like falling in love from a distance.

I’m the Queen of online crushes that have no potential. Let me admire you over an Instagram or funny Tweet. Please, don’t turn into a real person. Please, don’t show up with your humanity and be another reminder that something is wrong with me.

Something is wrong with me because I’m the one who wants to be alone. I’ll meet someone attractive and interesting, someone who makes an effort to get to know me. And you know what I want to do?

Run away. I want to run back into my room where it’s just me and my twisted thoughts.

It sounds like an entirely lame thing to complain about. Oh, poor thing, she has chances to date great people and that freaks her out. I know how it must sound.

But there’s something so lonely about continuously meeting (good) people and feeling nothing. If I don’t make an effort, I won’t have that gut sinking. I won’t have to look at someone face-to-face and realize, yet again, it’s just me. I’m a walking shell.

I haven’t emotionally connected to someone in such a long time, I irrationally worry that it’s a skill you can lose. A friend says it’s like riding a bike, but I look at her with her longterm boyfriend and I think, Dude, you just don’t get it.

I don’t know how long I’ll be this way. I don’t know if I’ll ever get out of my own way and give myself a shot at finding happiness with another person. I like to think I will. I have to think I will.

But right now, if you fall in love with me, I will eventually disappear. And you don’t deserve that. You deserve so much better than me.