Maybe I am better off alone.

I’m not good at relationships. I am selfish, I am flawed, and I am scarred by past traumas. I love people I will never be with. Maybe I love them because I know we will never be together, and yet, I still want to be with them.

I’ve never had a serious relationship. I spent seven years with someone who was cheating on his girlfriend with me for four of them. My longest “official” relationship was a month and a half in seventh grade, and I don’t even know if that counts. My lackluster love life is filled with past ex-somethings that just didn’t work out. I got scared or I found something to hate or they just left.

I’ve lost more “best friends” than I care to admit. I’ve lost them to other girls as often as I’ve lost them to their boyfriends. My person has always been whatever best friend hasn’t left my side, yet. I don’t blame them for this, when they inevitably leave, but it’s a different kind of heartbreak than that of a guy. It’s deeper.

Most of the time, I am okay with being alone. I like time by myself to decompress: watch a show, read a book, write a novel. I’ll come straight home from work and burrow under the covers in my bed before I even say hello to my roommates.

But I also like a constant; someone to share my every success and epic failure with at the end of the day. I like contact with someone who brightens my day, who tells me a stupid joke that makes me crack up, and who pulls me into a hug when they sense my mood shifting. I like a best friend who is also a partner in crime.

My best friends fill this role for me…until they don’t. I can go months without physical contact; there’s nothing sexual about their place in that role. They’re simply my go-to. But when they find their constant, their best friend and partner in crime, I’m left alone again.

I’m happy for every one of my friends that has found their match. Truly, I am. I am also fighting the overwhelming sadness that envelopes me when I crawl into bed at the end of the day and there is no one waiting there for me. I am glad they have their partner, but I am also upset that I have not found mine. They have something I do not have in each other, and I envy that. I’m human. I get bitter, I lash out, and I pull back. I let them leave me behind, because there is no more room for me when she finds him. The dynamic shifts; it’s not us against the world anymore. Now it’s them.

And that’s OK. But now it’s just me again, and I struggle with that. Like I said, most of the time I am fine being alone. What I’m not fine with, are the crushing moments of loneliness that seep so deeply into my bones that I feel the weight of the world on top of me. These moments are few and far between, but their intensity leaves aftershocks that ripple for months.

I do not put the blame for my loneliness on anyone but myself. I may joke that it’s because guys are a**holes, or whatever, and people may take those statements more seriously than I intend them. But I also admit that it’s on me. I’ll admit to anyone that asks I am f*cked up. I f*ck things up. And I’m not sorry for it, because whoever my partner is out there, he’s not going to.

I am lonely because I choose to be. This does not mean that I want to be lonely. It means I’m not willing to compromise my standards, my expectations, and my personal security for the sake of having someone. If they’re not going to be my partner, to build with me, then I am not going to spend my time on them to ease the bubble of loneliness I’ve trapped myself within. I don’t care if you don’t understand the distinction.

I am not asking for pity, or attention, or advice. I’m telling you what it’s like to be a lonely girl. It is waking up to an alarm and a cat curled at the end of the empty space in bed beside you. It is walking out the door without a kiss or a hug goodbye. It is text messages, plans, and time spent with friends who’ve long since found their match. It is buying what you want at the grocery store, by yourself, and wheeling the cart past a couple with their daughter. It is brushing off your own car in the snow, filling your own gas tank in the rain, and long car rides with nothing but music and an empty seat beside you. It is an endless string of failed first dates and drunk hookups with men who don’t give a sh*t about your feelings. It is watching Netflix alone in bed while your roommate and her boyfriend cuddle on the couch in the living room. It is turning off the light, crawling into bed, and tucking your leg around a body pillow. Only to do it again the next day.

It is spending time with people you enjoy, and trying not to flinch when you realize you’re the ninth wheel. It is pictures with your closest friends, arms around each other, while you stand solo in the middle. It is being surrounded by amazing people that you love to death, and still feeling like you’re all alone. Not because they don’t include you in their club, but because you are your own one-person club all by yourself. It is an endless string of, “You’re not nice to people. You don’t open up to them. Don’t complain about not having someone when you easily could have had so-and-so.” Or worse, “Your time will come. He’ll show up when you least expect it. When you stop looking, that’s when it finds you.”

I am selfish, I am flawed, I am scarred, and I am scared. I am not good at commitment. I do not let anyone in. I have walls so high and so thick it’d take a tank to get through to the other side. I’m not denying that, I’m proclaiming it. It’s not an excuse. It’s just a fact. These traits are my fault. Someone will see past that one day, I know, but that doesn’t change that there are moments now when I feel like I can’t get out of bed under the suffocating weight of loneliness.

So please be patient with me. Sometimes I suck. I get that. But please recognize that even when I can’t show that I’m happy you’ve all found your partner, that I am. Please also try to understand that I’m fighting a battle within myself you can’t see, and sometimes I lose. I lose battles all the time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t intend to win the war. I am lonely today. But even in that loneliness, I know I am whole. I am alone today, but I will not be alone forever.