How is it possible to miss something that I’ve never had?
I’ve been thinking about this question a lot lately; I constantly find myself daydreaming about places I’ve never been, people I’ve never met, and adventures I’ve never experienced, and I just wonder … how can that be possible? I have never been in love – I’ve never even had a boyfriend – and yet, my heart aches for that feeling, a feeling that I have never even known.
I suppose this desire could be traced back to the book lover inside of me; I have read so many epic love stories that it is as if I have actually lived them … except, instead of living happily ever after with my soulmate at the end, I am left alone with only the words that someone else has written to keep me company.
I have always been the girl that would rather talk about books than the outside world; books have been my escape and my solace from the troubles of my real life. In books, I found my best friends and my worst enemies and my soulmates and every version of myself that I could ever possibly hope to become.
The thing that I love, and hate, most about reading is that I find the person I want to spend the rest of my life with inside every book I experience. From every single book I have ever read, I have taken my favourite traits from every character and created this unrealistic version of my perfect soulmate that I will never find. It seems ridiculous that I have gotten so worked up and upset over the fact that this “person” couldn’t possible exist in my own world; it seems so unfair, like the worst form of torture, that an author could put such a perfect yet unattainable image into my head when I will never be able to touch it.
I want to love and be loved; I want to fall so madly, insanely, completely in love with another human being that it hurts. I am an extremely indecisive person and, though I have changed my mind about what I want to be when I grow up too many times to count, the one thing I have always been certain of is that I want to be in love. I have seen enough relationships fall apart around me to know that I want to fall in love and never fall out of it. I have never experienced that feeling, that passion before, but I think I’ve read enough novels to know what it should be.
I want to believe in love at first sight, that I could look into a stranger’s eyes across a crowded place and somehow know that we were meant to be. I want to feel a tingling all the way in my toes when his lips touch mine for the first time – and for the thousandth time. I want to argue and be challenged; I want to love him unconditionally even when I hate him passionately. I want to be spontaneous and have unimaginable adventures to tell our grandchildren about. I want to look into his eyes and know that there is no other person in the world that he would rather spend the entire day in bed with. I want to be so immensely in love with him that people can tell when we walk down the street together and be envious of a love like ours, a love out of the fairytales. I want him to pull me into his arms and know that there is no place on earth in which I fit better.
There are too many mediocre and temporary things in this world; love shouldn’t be one of them. With all the terrible things that have happened in the world and in my own life, love is the one thing that I have left to hold onto. I refuse to settle for a love that isn’t all-consuming, that doesn’t make me feel like the world could explode from our kiss alone.
I think this is both my biggest strength and my greatest downfall; my strength because I know that when I do find that person, we will be unbreakable, but my weakness because I can spend a lot of time looking for that person in the wrong people and, when they don’t align with the image in my head, I cut them off without a backwards glance. I want to be the girl that is loved by the world, but I just don’t think it’s possible for the world to love someone that it doesn’t even know – and we all know that I’m not very good at letting people get to know me.