I want love. The kind of love I’ve read about in fairy tales and great romance novels, not the torturous kind I’ve only known in this life so far.
I really don’t believe anymore that it actually exists, but if it does, it must be quite rare and therefore, the chances of it finding me are slight.
This is a depressing thought. Maybe I am destined to be alone for the rest of my days. Being alone suits me alright most of the time, but when the lonely comes, I feel it’s presence to the very core of my being… and it makes me cold. So cold.
That coldness is difficult for me to bear. It’s a physical and emotional coldness that no blanket can take the chill from. The only thing that helps at all when I get like this, is Addycat.
I doubt I will ever meet anyone who could truly understand me as I am, anyone I would actually have many things in common with, anyone who could love such a broken and chronically ill person like me.
Here’s a thought though… to keep what miniscule amount of hope I have left in finding someone, alive, I think I will start writing to that person. Here. In my blog. Maybe I will never have that special person to show the entries to, but if a miracle happens, and I do, then I will be glad I wrote them.