There are nights when I wonder why the heart keeps asking for something it has already learned to live without.
I’ve spent years convincing myself that independence is enough. That being strong, self-aware, and capable should silence the quiet ache of wanting someone to stay. But it never really does. No matter how much healing I’ve done, there’s still a part of me that longs to be chosen—not out of convenience, not out of pity, but out of genuine love.
And sometimes I whisper a prayer that feels almost impossible to admit.
If I was truly meant to walk this life alone, then please… take away my desire to be loved.
Not because love is a weakness, but because hoping can become exhausting. Waiting can become heavy. Carrying a heart that still believes, even after disappointments, can feel like its own kind of burden.
People often mistake solitude for peace. They think if you’re quiet, you must be okay. They see you reading books alone, drinking coffee by yourself, smiling in photographs, and assume you’ve mastered loneliness.
The truth is, solitude and loneliness are not the same thing.
I’ve learned to enjoy my own company. I’ve found beauty in silence, in rainy afternoons, in pages of books that understand me better than most people do. But none of those erase the very human desire to be loved deeply and sincerely.
Maybe that’s the paradox of being human. We can be whole on our own and still hope someone will choose to walk beside us.
So if love is written somewhere in my story, I’ll wait without forcing it.
But if it isn’t…
Then I hope life is kind enough to soften this longing inside me. Because I don’t fear being alone. I fear carrying a love that has nowhere to go.
Until then, I’ll continue becoming someone worth coming home to—even if, for now, that home is simply myself.
