I am still not sleeping well. I am still tired and looking forward to closing my eyes. It’s later than I thought. I had planned on being in bed an hour ago. Maybe it’s the late hour, maybe it’s the fact of being tired or the phone call from one of my best friends or the book I am reading, but as I sit down to write this I am aware of feeling sad. It’s a gentle ache. So tender that I wonder if what I’m really feeling is love.

I have been single since my 4-year relationship ended over 2 years ago. I struggle with being alone. At times I want someone to save me from myself. At times I want someone else to share the burdens of daily life with me. At times I want arms around me, holding me while I sleep or cry or just sit silently in the closeness of being with someone. A moment in time that is shared. I miss the intimacy of a gaze, of a hand holding mine, of a kiss.

That said, I haven’t dated in the last 2 years. I haven’t been particularly interested in expending the time or energy. I haven’t wanted the complications. I haven’t wanted to take someone else into account when for the most part, it feels like I am barely able to hold myself together. I have wanted what someone else could give me. I haven’t really wanted to give.

I miss my sweetness. I miss the part of me that can be incredibly soft in the presence of another. I miss the way my heart is, open and inviting, when it rises to the surface and flutters into the hands of the one I love. I don’t know that I am my whole self when that is not a part of my life.

I don’t know why this is coming up for me right now. It isn’t where my mind has been all day. I do know that I want all of me involved here. I don’t want to cut myself off from any part of me. I like my edges, but I value my softness too. I don’t want to forget it. I don’t want to leave it out.

I hope I pack all of me up when I go. I hope I bring all of me home. Wherever that happens to be.