I think this is probably true for a lot of people looking for love today, but I’m coming to realize something that I’m not sure I’m ok with—in fact, I’m pretty sure I find it unacceptable. I find myself more terrified by being “stuck” in a relationship I abhor, than excited by the opportunity of loving and being loved. How disappointing. I’ve considered myself a realist for many years now—realist, not cynic. Realistically, there are billions of people in this world, and even thousands just in the cities and areas around me that I haven’t met, or known, or walked a day in their shoes. I can’t write off every peer in my area and surround region as all being one of a certain number of categories—that just isn’t going to be fair nor would it be accurate. I haven’t experienced all there is to experience, and I haven’t spoken with those who have seen things I haven’t. I do know there are people with interesting mixes of experience, and those particular mixes of experience have the possibility of producing many different kinds of people.
But even so, after I remind myself of all that, I can’t help but notice, that I have written them all off… I am losing hope—not that I’m ok with that, by any means. I never thought I would be someone more motivated by fear, than I ever would be by opportunity. Truly, it is devastating. Why is it that I have to try so much harder to see the good, the possibilities, and constantly need to remind myself of numbers and statistics, just so I can have a balanced view? Why is cynicism seemingly so much easier? It’s definitely not happier. Have you ever met a happy cynic? You can’t be happy, if you can’t see happy. Yet why does it feel so much harder to fight the good fight, which has a light at the end of the tunnel, than it is to let it all float away, and leave me with the security that if I’m alone, at least I’m not trapped in something I might hate—as if that’s much better.
And yet, even now, in times like these, I know I’m not alone. I know that life is something akin to one giant mess that we make, and remake, and learn how to sort out and make less of. We all have moments of hope, and of fear. We all have moments of passion, and moments of quiet solace. And in reminding myself of those things, I begin to find hope again. Hope that there is more to know, and more to see; more people to meet, and more beauty to behold. Life doesn’t, and shouldn’t, stop for a single person and whether they’re in it or not. It’s about running together, not finding each other to start running.
And just like that, I find there’s a small smile on my face as I jog beneath some shady trees, enjoying the easy pace. I’m not alone, with so many people around me, how could I ever be? Perhaps that is my greatest tendency that leads its way to doubt. If I can’t even see that I’m surrounded by people all day, every day, how can I ever expect to truly have everything I ever hope to gain?