I’ve never been the one.
My eyes don’t dance with romantic promise, my smile has never been an invitation and sometimes my words are razor blades. You see, I am a hurricane. The eye of my storm is harsh and unforgiving, jokes are too cutting, my eyes are too exposed- every emotion I’ve ever felt dances across irises like a kaleidoscope of feeling.

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I am too loud, my laugh sounds like the clatter of pots and pans. My voice rushes from my mouth and my words mesh together in a tangled web of mess. Deciphering what I say is like trying to extract a necklace from an intricate knot of chains.

My smile burns.
I don’t need anyone to play knight for me, I’m more of a sword-brandishing kind of girl, the gore doesn’t frighten me. I don’t need someone to ask me to let down my hair. I have no interest in seeing if the glass slipper fits. I’m not the one you take to dinners with your folks, hand at the small of my back as you proudly announce the title of Girlfriend. I’m not the one you kiss in the rain, you bring flowers to, you serenade.
I am lone wolf, howls that are deafening and unapologetic.
I am scar tissue, fading bruises, love bites in the shape of crescent moons.
I am flood damage, storm warning, blood oozing.
Sometimes I cry lonely tears and sing the blues, lamenting the fact that my bed only hosts me each night. But then I stretch out my limbs and am met with all the space I could ever want and I remember I chose this.
Singularity is not my sentencing, it’s my sanctuary.

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I’ve never been good at relationships. Compromise scares me, sacrificing my routine sounds like agony. I have boundaries that currently have parameters that are unflinching in their rigidity. I don’t like the idea of restructuring my hopes and dreams.
Maybe one day I’ll meet someone who understands, who’s holding of my hand is a move to walk with me, not to drag me in the direction of their visions of our future. But for now I have yet to meet anyone who makes me want to abandon this party of one.

I like this life; me myself and friends who’ve proven to be the best thing I’ve encountered, companionship that allows me to breathe. I don’t feel like there’s an emptiness inside me waiting to be eased. I am thriving, a mosaic with no missing pieces.

When people grimace their sympathy at the revelation that I’ve been without a partner for roughly four years and I tell them I’m happy this way, I see their eyes shimmer with disbelief. But when I find the person for me I think they’ll appreciate all this time taken to establish personality and individuality. I think they’ll like the backbone I’ve strengthened with time. I think they’ll like the fact that I don’t meekly agree with anything they say, a habit I once had perfected.

So I have a silent laugh and resign myself to the fact that sometimes people won’t understand.
I don’t need to be desired.
I’m quite content with being undesirable.

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until next time,
r.

Posted by:rachelle

Figuring it out as I go along, documenting and staying as honest as possible.

7 replies on “alone, not lonely

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