You Might As Well Face It ………..You’re Addicted To Love! You Might As Well Face It ………..You’re Addicted To Love!
I roll over, yawning as the sun gazes brightly through my window. “Has she messaged me back?” I ponder to myself as I quickly... You Might As Well Face It ………..You’re Addicted To Love!

I roll over, yawning as the sun gazes brightly through my window. “Has she messaged me back?” I ponder to myself as I quickly search for my cell phone. Having fallen to sleep the night before with reverent discourse that I wished never ended made me wake with a desire for only more meaningless banter today, just to only hear her voice. I’d been here before, lingering with these intense emotions of desire and yet I’m puzzled with what draws me to her. Just a simple glance from her was all it took with those innocent eyes.

The chase was on for a prize that I’ve yet to fully comprehend. Inside I know it is only the idea of this girl that drives me mad, but the delusive summary I hold against her is more than enough to agitate the flames within.

I’ve been here before, I remind myself. It is not her that I’m really after but rather the safety that lies within the walls of a resume. I crave the labels, the references, the experiences she has worked so diligently to accomplish rather than her sweet innocence that captured my attention in the first place.

I never really wanted to know her or accept her frailty, but I wanted to pounce and command her attention.

But for now, a simple validating response via messenger would suffice. Were my playful condescending words too abrasive for her? Or would she succumb to my antics of lustful persuasion just like all the others had in the past?

The message not read from the night before, and my fears of rejection subside to their waiting position where I keep them always on guard. These sweet well formed insecurities I’m sure have kept me on my toes over the years. Another well nurtured defence tactic that has always kept previous lovers at bay. Had she received the message the night before and not responded, it would have only validated my deeply rooted lack of worth that I have masked for so many years. But for now, I about do an about turn and steer clear of that scarring honesty and maintain my delusive plan of attack.

I place the obsession on pause and slowly make my to the kitchen in hopes of satiating at least one hunger for the day. I place my phone down on the counter and slowly rummage through the pantry in hopes of finding something exciting that I had somehow over looked the night before full well knowing the cupboards were empty. The only nourishment I really craved was her attention, but why? What makes her any different than the other amazing women who have mysteriously made their way into my life?

A high pitch chime rings through the room and a starling shock wave rips through my solar plexus, could this be her? My desperation to hear from her masks any recollection that the television was playing in the background. I quickly reach for my phone and in that brief moment of anticipation my life is placed on pause, hanging with concern on whether or not I will see that rejuvenating light of hope that is my indicator light.

These innocent victims of my lustful nature seem to take all the blame for my selfish behaviour as I toy with their emotions. How a bashful smile or a cordial glance is sometimes all it takes for my passion to ignite. Every new encounter assuring myself that I will be more careful with my words than the last.

The empty pit of my being yearns for even a glimmer of true love. Maybe this time I will surrender to due course and allow the universe to align me with my soul-mate. But these thoughts are always far too fleeting, and fear always seems to win over. The thought of being alone is always too much to bare, I am far too weak to champion life without a partner. The instant relief from oxytocin will save me from this pain again. A soft embrace from a past fling will suffice and I slowly turn my mind to  passed connections. I know these chapters were closed for a reason but my insecure longing for attention won’t seem to leave me.

Historical evidence had always proved my ability to find a partner, and yet I never chose to centre myself in that fact. My thoughts betray me and flaring inadequacies win out. I will have to prove to the world my hubris and worthiness. My true worth hasn’t been realized for years, and maybe it never will be, but until that day arrives I will continue to sell them their dreams. In reality I don’t even want this girl, but I need her to want me. I need that attention, that simple validation that I am still significant and desirable, at least to someone.

bleeding heart

With Valentines Day just around the corner I hope you escape this typical thinking. I hope you question your motives more than once when it comes to seeking a partner this time around. And finally, I hope you recognize your worth as an amazing individual that never has to sell their worth to others in order to receive love!


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