You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.

The same way you can't fix someone who doesn't want to be fixed.

Neither can you find someone who tries their hardest not to be found.

So is this how it'll be?
From our first shy conversations,
to discussing our favorite books and songs,
the midnight confessions,
the daily I love yous,
the constant motivation,
the laughing,
the loving,
the missing.

It started with missing.
Time took its toll on us.
We were too busy to talk.
That was okay.
We loved each other still.
We understood.
It's okay.
But it wasn't.

We stopped talking.
We missed each other.
So now it has come to this;
the Sorry, I was busy.
The It's okay. How are you?
The I'm good. What about you?
The That's great to hear. I'm okay.
Then silence.
We moved on.
That's it?
We love each other still right?
We'll rekindle right?
Right?

-m.b

I preach about being independent and although it is a desirable trait, deep down I am still a hopeless romantic. I long to have a significant other who I can talk to, explore them like a curious scientist, study the cracks in between them, someone who would listen to how my day went and actually cares about me, who looks at me adoringly like I was their favorite constellation, knows my quirks and adores them and holds me when I'm tired. I do get tired easily. Must be nice to snuggle up to someone who makes you feel all tingly everywhere and the two of you get shy about it.

But I've been fishing for years and I still couldn't find the right catch. Talking to the moon who would tell me that it takes time and when I do, it'll be worth it. I believe it, I do. But I just wish this dull ache inside would disappear. Let it calm down and dissolve but it's like a restless wave, constantly washing over me. When will this storm end?

I wish I wouldn't feel so lonely at night, staring at the ceiling in the dark, listening to sad songs and feel the tears slipping down my cheeks in cohesion. It ***** even more in broad daylight where I see other couples holding on to each other, smiling and wearing dumb matching sweaters. As cliché as it is, I want that. I'm happy for them, truly. But I couldn't stop the twinge of envy I get when I hear their lovesick giggles. What did they do; sell their soul, throw a coin in a well, or make a wish upon a shooting star? How did they get so lucky? What are the chances of liking someone who likes you back? Is it a breakthrough in science they discovered? A eureka moment? Am I the only lost particle? If not, where are the other lost ones? Are they colliding aimlessly, alone and lonely as I am?