My friend and I talk about how we are “yearners.”
We’re not great at love, because the ache of not having it is always better
When you want someone so desperately, your very existence becomes hinged on spiting them by existing if they do not want you or holding your breath waiting for the other shoe to drop if they do
There is, I’ve found, a physical location for the former
The ache of yearning without chance of reciprocation sits deep in your bones
Like the ache of a brittle winter but without the relief of a cup of tea by the fire
Every glimpse feels like a personal affront, each confirmation of their happiness and your lack as crushing as the worst kind of heartbreak
I wish I had some advice to give, some message to impart
A how-to of getting rid of such a state of being
I am no expert – just a simple observer of this illness
The only remedy I can speak to is an open mind and a friend to rely on
For if you cannot bear yearning alone, yearn together
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