The Beautiful Paradox of Missing You

I am sure I am not the only one who woke up one day and suddenly wanted everything in pink, completely ditching the all-black wardrobe.

Growing up, I hated it. It was a “girl” colour, even though I secretly loved Barbies and princesses. For years, black was “my” colour. Now? I want everything pink. I’ve been in relationships before, but I have never felt this kind of shift. I feel closer to my inner child. Closer to God. Closer to myself.

We’ve been fed this image of how longing feels — you curl up in bed, grab a mug of something warm, eat to fill the void, and hit play on the saddest playlist you can find.

I was there, not going to lie. I’ve cried to songs I’d once enjoyed, missing that one person, longing for their presence, because I wasn’t able to relate to the lyrics. It stung.

But now, things are weirdly different.

I have this playlist full of soft, indie love songs. And instead of crying, I just sway to the music and smile. I smile because I finally have someone to think of when those songs play. I actually get it.

When the singer talks about adoring the way kohl dances around the corners of her eyes, or the melody of her earrings dangling as she runs to hug him, or how he’d never let her inner light dim… it just reminds me of how my man looks at me. I used to cry to those exact same lyrics. Now I smile.

Is this what healing looks like? The man is a walking parade of green flags, and it isn’t even that my past partners were terrible people. It is just that, for the first time, I have a safe space to voice my absolute deepest needs, and he actually makes the active effort to respect them. I don’t just feel loved. I feel cherished. Adored. Truly cared for.

Don’t get me wrong, I still cry when the house is quiet and his absence feels heavy. But now, I have the courage to just sit with those tears. I can talk myself through it, because down in my bones, I know this man is worth it. I don’t need my friends to convince me that long-distance is doable. (Though I definitely still demand his reassurance!)

The books I’d buy to escape reality, now just make me blush because the words have become relatable. He doesn’t get jealous of my fictional crushes because he is the book boyfriend. He’s the Xaden, the Rhysand, the Archer. And I couldn’t be happier to just exist right here, with him.

I’ve realized the poems, the songs, and the romance novels aren’t actually that far from reality. The people who wrote them drew from real love, whether that love stayed or eventually left.

This kind of love is real. It is rare, especially for empaths and hopeless romantics who feel everything so deeply, but it can be found. If you are lucky enough to experience it, hold onto it tight. It is the absolute best gift you can give your soul.

Thank you for reading. And by the way, just so you know, you can clap up to 50 times on a Medium story.