A Heart That Runs Before It’s Held
Hi, I don’t really know what I’m trying to accomplish by writing this, but I feel like I need to say it out loud.
I’m about to turn 39 next month, and for a long time I’ve wanted something simple but profound; to be truly seen by someone, to be understood in a way that feels real and complete. I’ve isolated myself and built my walls so high that I’m not even sure they could be taken down anymore.
In some ways, I’ve grown comfortable in my loneliness. Maybe even too comfortable. I sometimes wonder if I’m still capable of deep, genuine love. There’s a sadness in me that I try not to linger on, and work often keeps me distracted from it, but recently I’ve started to realize how heavy my heart has actually become.
I keep to myself now. There’s no one in my area I feel drawn to, and the dating pool is incredibly small. Even if I did meet someone I was interested in, I think I’d probably run and hide before anything could begin.
My friends say I crave a kind of storybook romance, and they’re probably right. I’d love to fall in love with someone who only has eyes for me; a love so real it feels almost unreal, something powerful enough to make the world feel brighter. Maybe that sounds like I’m drifting into fantasy again, but it’s a fantasy I still hold close, and part of me hopes it isn’t just that.
I don’t think it’s wrong to want something that feels so right. A dream is a wish your heart makes, I guess. Call me Cinderfella.