I have been wanting to write about my longing for intimacy and closeness, and the struggles that come along with it for a long time now, but I often find myself hesitant to do so. It always seemed to me that writing about it feels out of place. I and a few close friends know that I pride myself in being independent, and having been single for all my life I thought that I could somehow place all these yearnings in the background, or that I could find it elsewhere, in a different form, that could hopefully quench that thirst of the heart. But it could never suffice; it always becomes like an escape or a lie, rather than an honest solution.
Hence, every time I write about intimacy, it always comes off like an emotional outburst – a mere call from the subconscious that manifests itself once the silence of the night has crept up to me completely. In other words, a soft hours kind of thing. Nothing to take too seriously.
But intimacy is a deeply human craving, one that can never be truly satisfied if our longing for it is kept to ourselves out of fear of being perceived as clingy, or needy, or weak. Every time I write about the things that make me feel alive – outside strolls, books, coffee, writing, and my faith – I have always refrained from mentioning the need for an experience that can only be felt through another individual, whose love I have not to ask for, nor do I have to do anything. That I can simply remain, where I am and where I will be, without the worry of having to look back and see that there’s no one behind me, is something that I have wished for. Someone who’s tranquil space is a sanctuary to my restless heart.
Of course, I am at fault for the things that get in the way. My lack of commitment to people and things has long been an issue of mine, one that I have always escaped it consequences, for better or for worse. But with all that I have experienced what remained is this yearning for a place of rest. How nice it would be to have someone whom you could give all your life to, and it would be worth doing a thousand more times, for you are certain that the person would do the same to you.
As much as I enjoy seeing myself amidst a sea of strangers, whose lives I will never know, but whose humanity I have drawn strength from, wouldn’t it be also nice to have someone with whom I can feel that way?