mynamesearn

I don’t really know what love actually is at the end of the day. I think I do sometimes, and then life changes my mind again.

Maybe love changes forms depending on what stage of life you’re in. Maybe there isn’t just one version of it. 

Maybe sometimes love is passion. Maybe sometimes it’s friendship. Maybe sometimes it’s just someone sitting next to you quietly while you overthink everything.

Maybe it’s remembering small details about them years later. Maybe it’s staying. Maybe it’s leaving when you know you can’t love someone properly anymore. I don’t know. 

Of course I want someone to love me romantically, and I probably will have that one day.

But I’m not really a relationship person. I can’t fully say I’ll end up in one eventually because who knows? Life is unpredictable.

I might meet someone really kind, really patient, really good for me. 

But the chance of me not being in one feels higher. And weirdly… that idea doesn’t scare me as much as I thought it would. Actually, it kind of relieved me. 

Maybe having good friendships matters more to me than I realized. Maybe love doesn’t always have to be passionate and dramatic all the time, even though I really love that kind of love. Maybe love is just having a really good friendship with someone.

Maybe if I genuinely like someone as a person, as a friend, I would want to take care of them forever anyway. 

And maybe eventually love becomes something else. That doesn’t mean you’re not in love anymore. Maybe your love just grows into something bigger than passion. You become best friends. You become home to each other.

And maybe that’s my love story. I don’t know. 

Sometimes I have this fantasy that my love life is going to be magical. Cinematic. But at the same time… maybe it won’t be. Maybe I won’t find my person. And maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world. 

Or maybe I’m just scared. 

Maybe I’m not as brave as I thought I was. Maybe it’s not that I don’t want love, I do. I’m just scared of serious relationships sometimes. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of waking up one day and realizing someone I love deeply is now just… gone from my life. 

Because people leave. And I know eventually I’d survive it. I always do.

But maybe I still can’t stand the idea of it. Maybe that’s why I cut people off first sometimes. Maybe I leave emotionally before they get the chance to leave me physically. 

Maybe I’m just too scared of feeling real things, so instead I imagine them. Romanticize them. Write about them. Think about them, instead of fully living them. 

Sometimes I feel like a little kid pretending to be bigger than she actually is. 

I used to joke with my friends that I always feel taller than I really am. But maybe emotionally I do the same thing. Maybe I built this huge personality, this confidence, this humor around myself because deep down I’m actually small and fragile. 

Maybe I’m just a little crazy. Which honestly, I think I’m allowed to be. Everyone’s a little crazy. 

Sometimes I sit alone in my room and think about the possibility of someone loving me so much that they want to stay forever. Of course part of me believes someone will love me so much that they’d die for me.

But another part of me still can’t imagine how something like that could ever happen to me.

Not because something is wrong with me. But maybe I’m just not built for that kind of life. And strangely enough, I think I’ve kind of made peace with that possibility. 

Even if I do end up alone someday, at least I loved people. At least I got to experience something real.

At least I’ll have memories of looking at someone and thinking, wow, you exist, and somehow our lives crossed at one point in time. I think that’s beautiful too.

Maybe not every love story is supposed to last forever to matter. Maybe some people are only meant to exist in your life for a short period of time and still completely change you.

And honestly, I’m grateful for that. I’m thankful I got to experience love in all the different forms it showed up in my life. 

Maybe I’m too fragile to love someone properly. And there’s nothing wrong with being fragile, by the way. But sometimes I do feel fragile.

I feel like the world is collapsing on top of me all at once. And when I really think about it, there’s not always a specific reason.

It’s just every bad thing that’s ever happened to me showing up in my body at the same time. 

And I know someone could love me through that. I know that kind of love exists. I know someone out there could see all of me and stay anyway. 

But part of me still feels like my mind would never fully be at peace in a long-term relationship. Then again, what do I know? I’ve never even been in a relationship longer than a year and a half. 

So, who am I to decide that? 

And I keep saying I want peace of mind… but do I really want peace all the time? 

Maybe part of me still wants that stupidly passionate love. The love that’s so intense it stops making sense. The kind where you barely know someone but somehow it feels like you’ve known them forever. 

I love that feeling. 

I love walking around with someone at night in the middle of nowhere, talking about everything and nothing. I love the beginning of things. I love getting to know someone for the first time. 

The curiosity. The tension. The excitement. 

But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m only good at the beginning. 

Because eventually people disappear from my life. Sometimes life just pulls people apart. Different timing. Different paths. Different circumstances. 

And I keep attracting people who leave eventually. 

But then again… maybe I’m attracted to them because I know they’ll leave. 

Maybe deep down I like knowing I won’t have to hold onto something forever. Even when it’s good. Even when it could actually become something real. Maybe there’s a comfort in knowing it already has an ending. 

Maybe love scares me more than loneliness. Which is terrifying, considering how badly I still want it sometimes.

I don’t even fully know what love means right now. Maybe nobody really does. And that’s the fun part of life. Maybe I’m not supposed to know yet.