If I Chose To Love You, I’d Be Choosing To Break My Own Heart

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“I don’t want one.”

“What? Why not?”

It’s almost like telling people I didn’t want a boyfriend is a sin. People assume you can’t truly mean you don’t want a boyfriend, that you’re just hiding your feelings by saying you don’t want one. That you must be lonely and miserable because what kind of person chooses to be single?

That’s why I chose to be single.

At the beginning of college, I was hopeful that maybe I’d find my soulmate. Moving to a different state meant being surrounded by new people and new men, maybe I would love one of them. And if I was lucky enough one of them would love me back. But that didn’t happen. It was a combination of each, but never both parties on the same page. I might have been one page ahead while he was still flipping back to the last page to make sure that chapter was really over.

Fast forward a couple years and I’ve realized that getting involved with someone could potentially be the worst thing for me. I would without a doubt break my own heart if I allowed myself to fall for someone.

I’ve been able to focus all my time and energy on myself; I didn’t have another human to latch onto and plan a future with.

Traveling has my heart, not a guy. In my mind the only enjoyable way to start traveling is to do it on your own, with no worries or strings attached.

Being involved with a significant other while trying to travel and experience the world would alter my experience, in my opinion. I think I would either be concerned about them back home or not have a care in the world, and neither of those things are good options. Ultimately, for me, I would be back where I started at during the trip, alone.

Getting involved with someone would either leave me heartbroken when I left, knowing I wouldn’t be able to see him for months or possibly years. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to talk to him regularly or touch him for what would feel like a lifetime. I wouldn’t be able to sleep by his side or comfort him when he’s having a bad day. It would slowly, but surely start tearing my heart into pieces.

Or it would leave me heartbroken there, not knowing what he’s doing and if he’s actually missing me.

It could make me realize he isn’t the person I thought he was, or I’m not the person I thought I was.

No matter how the situation played out, there would be heartbreak. That’s why I’ve shut myself off to love all this time, to make it easier on myself when the day comes to hop on that plane and not look back for quite some time.

Loving you would break my own heart, and I’m not ready for that just yet.