I’ve started so many posts today but I couldn’t finish a single one.
I have burned through topics and conversations and the only thing I want to write about terrifies me.
Because I’m writing about love.
And what is more terrifying than talking about love?
I had it.
And they don’t tell you about the waiting.
They don’t tell you about what happens after experiencing love, an all-consuming kind of love, and having it slip through your hands.
Wait for time to forgive and accept that not all kinds of love conquers. But knowing that the right love will conquer all.
Wait for you to taste what you had before in a more explosive and delicate way.
We’re simply stuck waiting.
The mode I’m in is a fragile patience.
It’s not a desperate need but more of a mutual understanding with my heart.
I’m in a patient stage of contentment with myself and where I am. I don’t feel the need to constantly be on the look out for love. I am not seeking a partner to have in the next 24 hours and while I miss kisses on my forehead and waking up in someone’s arms, it means a lot more when that someone is in love with you.
No, I’m okay with being patient.
For a girl who dreams of a certain kind of love… I know what I want. I know what I can offer and where I want to go and I want a partner who is the same way.
I’m waiting for someone who I don’t have to force myself to like. Someone I know who will fight for me because they see the value I have. Someone who isn’t into the games this generation likes to play.
I’ve realized how hard it is to let go of the kind of control I wish I had over love.
You can’t control love.
You can’t control how you feel, why you feel it, thoughts that consume you or how long it takes to fall completely head over heels or out of a broken dream.
But I can focus on anything and frankly, everything else, while that part of my life is stagnant.
Patience is my virtue as I continue to wait in this in-between of knowing what love is and looking forward to the day I can call it mine again.