chapter i: unrequited love

And even though you're far away, even if my time decays
Nothing feels quite the same, you're the one that got away 

The art of not being over someone you once loved, a love not openly reciprocated or understood. I wonder sometimes whether or not unrequited love is something that you ever get over or is it always there, merely dulled by time and growth.  Such thoughts often lead to more questions, a snowball rolling downhill, down the rabbit hole we go.  Do I suffer from unrequited love?  Is it what causes me the occasional sleepless night?

No. I don't think that I suffer from unrequited love. I've accepted each of my past situations for what they were: lessons learned that formed the present person and path I walk on.  If anything, I'm a victim of nostalgia. I compare and and every woman to her, flaws and all, sometimes even the smallest things. I'm no longer in love with her, though traits of her eat at my mind regularly.

However, my troubles in love don't stem from her or the nostalgic hold she has over me.  The list of my flaws in love could read like a scroll. To be frank, I don't naturally click with people romantically. Platonically? All day everyday. People are drawn to me and I to them. So why not enjoy that energy for the time being until my romantic solstice begins?

It's just not in me to do so. It's hard for me to make true, lasting friendships with new people because the friendships I have already have stood the test of time. Sure I could learn quite a bit from new people, but it is about as rare as catching smoke that new acquaintances become friends, family. They just don't compare and I'd rather save us both the time and disappointment.

Maybe it's just not my time for love, but that does bring up the question of when, if ever, that time will come. The current state of the world doesn't help matters either when social distancing is championed to avoid getting sick and getting others sick, but when your love language is physical touch, it's a living hell, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  I refuse to settle, but I also don't want to become one of those people that meets the love of their life at 40, 50 years old and only gets a handful of previous years to spend loving and experiencing with them.  There go my thoughts, drifting again. 

Baby, you're the one, the one that got away
This is what it feels like to have regrets
It is what it is
Now I'm wide open, it's so hard to focus
Now that it's the end, I guess you'll always be
The one that got away

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