of love and the lover.

I think a lot these days, about how different I am now compared to five months ago.

I think a lot these days, about what I think of love.

I think a lot these days, about my singlehood.

I think a lot these days, about not thinking – or thinking a lot less – about it.

I think a lot these days, about how I’m not out to reject love; but I won’t grief its absence.

I think a lot these days, about being accepting, content and happy with myself now.

I think a lot these days, about how I think: it’s okay whether love finds me or not.

I think a lot these days, about how it’s not actually self-love but self-respect.

I think a lot these days, about growing older and turning out okay.

.

There is no love life or ‘love of my life’ to speak of – but strangely, none of these matter. And it isn’t that they don’t matter because I think it’s better to be alone; no. I would never, no one does, deliberately chooses to be a companion of loneliness. But for some reason… I am and have been, of late, at peace and ease when it comes to romantic love. Whether or not that particular love finds me – I think a lot these days, about how it makes a world of difference to have found myself.

(I am love and the lover)

“It is being honest
about
my pain
that makes me invincible.”

 — Nayyirah Waheed | yield

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