I sit quietly, observing couples holding hands, sharing inside jokes, and creating memories together. It’s the little things I long for — the shared glances, the gentle touches, the simple presence of someone who understands me without words.
I wonder what it feels like to be the first person someone thinks of in the morning, and the last voice they want to hear at night.
It’s not that I’m begging for that kind of love because I’m surrounded by people who love me. But sometimes, I think of those things, especially when I read books or watch movies about love. I wonder — when is my turn? When will I experience that kind of love?
I yearn for the companionship, the laughter, and even the arguments that lead to deeper understanding. I want someone to share my joys, fears, and dreams. Someone who sees my flaws and loves me because of them.
I don’t need grand gestures or fairy tale romances. I just want to feel that connection, to know that there’s someone who looks at me and sees something special. Someone who chooses me, day after day — not out of convenience, but because they truly want to.
Seeing my friends find that kind of love makes me believe it’s possible. It keeps the hope alive that one day, someone will see me and think, “Yes, she’s the one.”
So as I watch the seasons change and time pass, I hold onto hope. I believe that my person is out there, somewhere, looking for me too. Maybe we haven’t met yet, or maybe we’ve crossed paths without realizing it. Whatever the case, I trust that when the time is right, our paths will converge, and I’ll finally understand why it took so long.
Until then, I’ll keep living, loving, and believing. And every now and then, I’ll look up at the sky, whisper my quiet plea, and dream of the day when the prophecy changes.
Let it once be me.
