To the ache of connections.

Today is the launch day of Switch 2. I sit in my room, playing Welcome Tour, a game that introduces the hardware in the form of minigames. It’s fun as hell, and I suddenly want to share this experience with someone. To tell them how cool this new piece of technology is. To geek out with me. I turn around, look at my empty room, and there’s no one here except me and the sound of my Switch. I feel a pang of sadness. I wish someone was here, right now, to experience this with me. I don’t feel like playing anymore, so I turn it off, go to sleep, if only so I don’t have to feel this uncomfortableness any longer.

The next day, I’m in my room and there’s this movie I’ve been wanting to watch for a while now—Final Destination: Bloodlines. I could watch it on my own, sure, but I think to myself that it’s a lot better to watch it with someone. I usually watch movies now on my iPad, cuddled up with someone, talking about the cinematography, the script, the story, the ending. I think to myself that I’ll wait. I’ll wait until I find someone to watch it with me, because the experience is better that way. But it’s been weeks now, and that hasn’t happened. So I decide to watch it anyway. The movie is good, but I can’t help thinking it could’ve been better with company.

I noticed that in the past couple of weeks, my life has been pretty busy. The transition in work. The lead-up to finishing my massage course. Dating. I haven’t had time to slow down—not really. And now that things are easing up, with the course finishing, not seeing anyone, and work being stable, everything is catching up to me again. And I’m left here, confronting my feelings.

Loneliness is a feeling I’ve made peace with. I’ve sat with it. I’ve walked with it. I’ve learned to hold it gently. And I’m not sure if this is the feeling I’m feeling now. I don’t feel abandoned by the world. I don’t feel abandoned by the people around me. There are many sources of love in my life—work, friends, family, myself—so what is this feeling that keeps knocking at the door?

I realised it has been longing all along.

Longing is when I crave the space to share my experience with others. Because it’s ten times better than doing it by myself. Because it means something when it’s shared. And I wonder to myself—does longing mean I’m ready to date again?

I think I’m close. But not quite there yet. Because deep down, I know I’m still relying on someone else to make the moment better, to make the story brighter, to make my life fuller. When really, the person who can do all that is me. And I’m still learning. Still learning to do that. Still learning to be the one who shows up. I’m getting a little better at it each day.

These days, I’m learning to do more on my own. I’m learning not to wait for someone else before I give myself permission. Because the truth is, there might not be anyone coming. And if I keep waiting, I might miss out. I might miss out on living a full life. On living this one beautiful, absurd, aching life that I already have.

I’m beginning to see that a partner in my life is a bonus. A beautiful addition. Not the foundation. Not the reason. Just someone to walk beside me through an already full and fulfilling life. I think when I’m finally comfortable being alone with myself, truly alone, I’ll be ready to share the wonder of living with someone else. So that we can experience it together. Laugh together. Hold space for each other. But even then, I’ll know—if it ends up just being me, I’ll still be alright. I’ll still be whole.