There’s many types of single. There’s the good kind and the kind that rattles you so alone.
The kind of single that feels good is the kind you feel after getting out of a soul-sucking, emotionally parasitic relationship where you are doing the all the giving. That’s the freeing kind of single. The kind where you feel so new and wonderfully on your own, the emotional independence.
There’s the kind of single that is a choice. The kind where there are suitors, and boys or girls who would like to make you part of their life. But is your choice to decline. It’s the kind of single where you feel complete on your own and not desperate. Not desperate enough to grasp on to any hand that reaches itself your way. He doesn’t interest you or is not really compatible with you, and you aren’t going to waste your time.
And then there’s the kind of single that keeps you up at night. The kind that has hit you all of a sudden after that last attempt at love. The kind where you are putting yourself out there, trying to be available, and not a single fish bites. This is the kind of single that eats away at your sleep and your inner self and leaves you wondering what the fuck is so wrong with you that no one could bear to be in your presence for more than just one night. The kind of single that ices you out from yourself and from others and makes you overthink every interaction so you can find out what it is about you that is so inherently unattractive that no one would think twice about you.
“Some people like someone and do nothing about it,” some friends say.
“Happiness only real when shared.”