All of this is just stuff without someone to share it with. As much as I enjoy my apartment and my car and my movie collection and all of my music and the books and my clothes and all of my nerdy stuff, it’s just that: stuff. I have known this all along, but recently it’s really hit home. Maybe it was when on my birthday I realized that what I really wanted wasn’t going to come in a wrapped package lovingly given, but what, really who, was standing right in front of me but somehow just out of reach.
I’ve realized that I would give it all away if it meant I could be with him. No matter how fashionably I can dress, it only really matters if he’s there to admire it. It’s not enough to just “do it for me” anymore. No matter how engaging or meaningful or entertaining my movies or tv shows are, it’s nothing if I can’t share my excitement and the depth I’ve found in them with him. The novels don’t move me in quite the same way if I can’t share the way they’ve shaped me with him. Everything is so much less if he’s not there to listen to my stories and to share it all with.
I love my apartment, but when I come home after work the geek chic décor doesn’t change the fact that it’s cold, empty, and lonely. I’m tire of sleeping on my own. I want the comfort, safety, and warmth of being held as I fall asleep and his smile to wake up too. I don’t want to be one anymore. I want to be a part of two. I want two mugs of coffee in the sink every morning and two plates from lunch and dinner. I want to share eggs and sausage with him at breakfast. I want to cook for him too and not just dinner for one. I want two toothbrushes on the bathroom sink and his shoes on the mat by the door. I want to share my stories and adventures and all the mundane little things with him. I want to watch movies together and talk and sometimes just read in each other’s company. I want to cuddle up with him as we listen to music and talk softly. I want to share my walks with him, hand in hand.
I’m tired of being lonely. The kind of lonely that spending time with your friends just doesn’t fill. I’ve realized that though I try to fill that void with books or another movie or a new dress, I’m still empty. He’s the only thing that can truly fill that hole.
I got just a little taste of what it’s like to fall asleep with him and wake up in his arms. To share my morning coffee with him and eat breakfast together. Just a taste isn’t enough. I want more. I’ve caught a glimpse of what life could be like with him and it was everything I imagined it would be and so much more. I want that to be real. I want to find my way back to that. I don’t know what we are and it’s killing me. I need it to be real because it felt too right and I’ve been falling for him to long to have to throw it away…