I've never been obsessed or enslaved by the search for love. I've seen friends absolutely stricken by the search, like it was a disease they could not shake. I have never been struck with that urgency.
In the past, I have told people I could live happily as a single individual for the rest of my life. They keyword there is happily. Plenty of people live unattached, but most are bitter about it.
As a side-note, this is not a conclusion I made because I can't live any other way. I have been fairly successful in my love life, I'm on the average for American females my age. For me, often the end of the relationships came because I view relationships as less important than following my dreams.
I think the only way anyone can make the conclusion that living single would be a happy life, is if they have something else to be passionate about. For me, it's my excitement for the future and the realization of my dreams.
Anyway, I wrote a poem about this very subject. (I believe this is the first time I've mentioned my poetry so I'll explain. I've been writing poetry since I was fourteen, and I've published one so far. At this point, I have written over 100 poems and this number grows every month. Poetry is in my blood. It is more than a hobby, it is a part of me I write both metered line and free-verse poetry. It's just kind of whatever feels right at the time.)
Now that I've said all that, I'll share my poem. This one is in the free-verse style. Enjoy!
Wildling
Your soulmate, your everything.
You join in a waltz for one.
Two, six, twelve; halves becoming wholes.
The dance-floor fills with feet on air, with hearts awakening from slumber.
But wildlings, are they not among us?
Souls born inclusively?
The duos fly around the floor, lost in each other.
But are there not those standing in the shadows?
Ones watching the display with a confusion born in the belief that longings must exist?
Phantoms born....whole.
With such a colossal planet, perhaps soul-mates exist in odd numbers. Maybe it's like a game for pairs with 3 people total. Is it logical for every mortal to have a counterpart?
This shadow envelopes one such phantom.
The odd one out turns away from the swirling couples.
His hand gently rests over his heartbeat, the love is whole.
He smiles in the darkness, the joy is whole.
He closes his eyes, the dreams are vivid, not fragmented, they are...whole.
The shadow turns back to the floor, and watches with appreciation.
Then he steps back, turns away, and fades into the night with no sense of loss.
Wildling is he, the world is his lover.
