Nights are the toughest.
I’m afraid of the dark but flourish in it. I wouldn’t step out alone but would give anything to star gaze all night with a bff/bae. I shiver when the lights go out but love watching a city light up after sundown.
But if you’re lonely and all by yourself, nights are the toughest to get by.
Maybe it’s how they make you more conscious of your surroundings and yourself. How they make you think of all that you’ve done at the same time on different dates; the people you’ve shared them with. They remind you constantly of your solitude and nothing is as important to you then as to have someone to break the silence and snuggle up next to. The night makes the empty space on your huge bed ever-so apparent. Suddenly, you feel small and exposed and hide in your blanket, shivering, in a weak attempt to ward off the sorrow and anxiety.
Living alone is great, don’t get me wrong. To have your own defined space without intrusions is a luxury few can afford, or in this country, be allowed to have. Not having to adjust with a housemate and being free to cook/eat/watch TV in your underwear is a privilege. Living alone is great – just not so much when the same is true for life outside your front door, too.
Love is another variable which, when introduced into the equation, succeeds in further screwing it up royally. If you’re like me, you fall headlong and catch a truckload of feelings before you can say “watch out”. If bae’s been around since before you got lonely, everything just intensifies tenfold. Suddenly, you feel yourself wanting them around all the time. When they’re over, you can confidently say you’re “okay”. When they leave, it’s like the word “home” just got redefined. You reside no more in your apartment but in that person. This is great if your SO feels the same way; you complete each other like never before and moving in may even be on the cards. However, if said person is practical and sane, you’re more than likely to feel like the real-life embodiment of the Clingy Girlfriend meme. You’ll whine and cry and cling onto all he has to offer, resulting in the formation of a dependent, sad little mess of the independent person you were.
Not the most ideal situation, but they fail to understand that it isn’t in our hands. They shouldn’t be expected to, either. They’re not responsible for your happiness or wholeness. You are. No matter how much you blame your boyfriend for not calling up everyday, you gotta give it to the man when he listens to you rant about how your boss and your food and your life in general sucks. No one should be expected to volunteer to sit through that. If they do, you’ve got quite a catch, but that comes with doing the same for them and you’d be surprised at how quickly patience fades.
Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s lonely. Yes, you will probably cry through a Sunday evening and many more during the week. No, there will be no one to hold you while you sob and replace that box of tissues with their shirt. But life doesn’t come with a bulletproof vest or a shoulder to cry on. It won’t be long before he’s sick of your complaining; nobody likes a crybaby. You’re on your own in this unforgiving world and the sooner you realise it, the better.
My thoughts, precisely. 