alone

I always underestimate the satisfaction that alone-time can bring me. I forget how much I appreciate being alone until I take the time to do so. I work for, and with other people, I take classes with other people, and I live with other people. I don’t have much time to be alone.

We’re all in the search for a partner, it doesn’t matter whether it’s a long-term or short-term one. I’m usually stuck somewhere in-between. I don’t want one to stick around forever – forever is too long. I also don’t just want one for the night – it seems like a waste. I don’t want just anyone either. They can’t be ugly or annoying. They can’t be too clingy or too aloof. They can’t be too similar or too different to me. They have to be just right. I’ve never met anyone like that, but I give people a shot anyway.

In theory, I have the right idea. In practice, not so much. The choices I’ve made in my romantic life have been subpar, to say the least. I’ve been approaching them the wrong way.

“I wasn’t necessarily looking for happiness, just less pain.” Have you ever listened to ‘Leray’ by Trippie Red? It’s a soft-spoken intro track for his album. This particular line hit me hard. I’ve forgotten to look for happiness and have just been running from pain.

I claim I’m lonely every once in a while. I’m really not that lonely – if anything, I need to be alone more often. Yet, I’ve continued to pursue partners that will never be able to fulfill my desires. We’re constantly told we need to find that other half; someone else will complete us. I believed that for some time.

The last time I felt comfortable with a partner was when we wanted absolutely nothing to do with each other. In a neutral way, not a negative way. We just didn’t care. I felt alone, and that’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be alone so badly that I sought partners whose empty presence made me feel my presence stronger.

I’m sitting at the beach with a beer in my hand, alone. What a beautiful realization that you can be alone on your own. Just takes some practice.

Author: Vero Silvestri

A 22 year old trying to figure shit out.

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