Burning Beneath

Sometimes loneliness becomes an actual pain in my heart and stomach. It is not simply about having nobody to talk to. It is about not having that one person I can talk to about anything, without holding back, without choosing my words carefully, without wondering whether I am being too much.

Someone who remembers our conversations, not just what we said, but how we felt being around each other. The atmosphere, the intimacy, the comfort of sitting next to someone and gently brushing shoulders. That little physical connection that says so much without a single word.

Sometimes I feel like crying, but I don’t want to go into that feeling. So I carry on.

Recently, I found myself talking to someone again, and within just two days, the same emotions started coming back. I stopped it again because I couldn’t keep going through that cycle. But stopping the conversation doesn’t stop the feelings or fill the emptiness.

And I find myself wondering what I am supposed to do. Keep going through life alone? Keep hoping that someday I will find someone who understands what I need, knowing that nobody can ever be exactly what I want?

Then there is another part of this that I struggle with, and it is not easy to admit.

I judge people by their appearances. I have my preferences, things I find attractive and things I don’t. Yet I am terrified of being judged by someone else in exactly the same way.

If I look at someone and decide whether I am physically attracted to them, how can I expect someone else not to do the same with me?

I love myself. I love my body. I have worked on accepting who I am, and I genuinely believe that I do. But somehow, that acceptance doesn’t completely survive the vulnerability of physical intimacy.

There are parts of my body I still feel embarrassed to show. Parts I wonder whether someone else would genuinely want to touch, kiss, or even look at.

And that is where something happens inside me.

When I am the one giving affection and intimacy, I know exactly how I feel. I know that I want to be there, that I want to touch that person, that I want to make them happy. Even when everything isn’t exactly to my liking, my affection is genuine. I am not doing it because I have to.

But when it is my turn to lie down and receive that same affection, I feel exposed in a completely different way.

I start wondering whether they actually want to touch me. Whether there is something about my body, my smell, my skin, or my appearance that they don’t like. Whether they are doing it because they genuinely desire me or simply because it is my turn.

I begin to feel like a burden. As though they are doing something for me rather than something they want to share with me.

And instead of enjoying the moment, I find myself watching.

Every little movement. Every hesitation. Every facial expression. Every change in the way they touch me.

Oh, how I can read into the smallest gesture.

Or perhaps I am not reading it correctly at all. Perhaps I am interpreting everything through my own insecurities. I really don’t know.

Maybe that is why I prefer being the one on top, the one giving, the one in control. Because in that position, I don’t have to wait to find out whether someone wants me. I don’t have to surrender myself and wonder what they are thinking.

But I want to receive too.

I want to experience someone making me feel beautiful, wanted, and loved. Not because I asked them to reassure me, not because they feel obligated to reciprocate, but because that is genuinely how they feel about me.

And I want to believe them.

That might be the hardest part of all.

I have been through therapy. I have made decisions, reached realizations, acknowledged my insecurities, and worked on accepting myself. I can understand so much about why I feel the way I do.

Yet understanding doesn’t seem to make those feelings disappear.

I can recognize what is happening in my mind and still be unable to stop it.

And sometimes I am simply tired. Tired of the loneliness, tired of hoping, tired of withdrawing when things begin to hurt, tired of questioning myself when all I really want is to be close to someone.

I don’t have a conclusion or a lesson to offer here. I haven’t figured this out.

I am sharing it because these feelings are real, even when they contradict each other. Maybe someone else has been struggling to put words to the same experience.

For me, admitting these feelings openly is part of my ongoing self understanding, discovery, and acceptance.