I really really do now see why people opt to speak to therapists. Just someone who is objective. Who doesn't know the person. Who will just listen to you speak. Who you can pose rhetorical and hypothetical questions to. Someone you can pour your heart out to and not worry about the mess you've created. Speaking to friends and family serve only to increase their worries and leads to more questions you can't answer.
How do you say those things without sounding cheesy? How can you actually say aloud what you truly believe in?
Closest by far are letters. In them, I find so much of what otherwise cannot be expressed and said, can be.
Do you really believe?
That one day you really will find that person. That one who will stick by you no matter what. Who can accept you for the person you are, and the person you will become. Who will really patiently put up with you. Who really will want to spend the rest of their life with you. I don't need fireworks and gifts, flowers and diamonds. Just a steady hand. To know that no matter what, they will stay. You make the biggest promise you'll ever make in your life the day you join hands - don't break it.
Some days, I wholeheartedly believe. I am filled with conviction, confidence and unwavering certainty that really someone does exist. I look at all the happy couples I know, I know of, I see. The elderly grandma and grandpa walking down streets with their hands clutched tightly. That one man who followed slowly behind his huffing wife on his walking stick, saying in passing, "oh boy she's angry now. I'll just let her be. Heh heh."
But other days, the doubts creep in. All the things I've seen and felt. All the times I've overthought everything, ruined everything, cocooned myself in a web of cynicism.
How I ricochet between certainties and doubts.
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