As I sat at my desk trying to write, I thought long and hard about my life. About the choices I've made and the path I took. How do you know if you made the right choice? I look to my friends and family and how they are happier than I seem to be.
I know I put a lot of stock in finding a relationship, that somehow magically I will meet someone and it will click and all my worldly problems will be solved in that instant. I know that is a fallacy, but my mind tells me otherwise. Can happiness from another person awaken happiness in myself? I don't think so.
Yet here I am in the same situation as the last time I put thought to word. No girlfriend, no confidence, and feeling like I have no hope of changing those things. How can someone love me when I can't love myself? How can someone love a person with my flaws. I know what my strengths are, and more importantly I know what my weaknesses are. For myself, I can't seem to look past my foibles, and find a deeper truth. My own superficialness prevents me from seeing the best in myself. And if I am not the best version of me, aren't there better choices out there?
Things like honor or devotion can only carry a person so far before they become weakness. Without confidence in my self, whether in looks or heart, I can't see other people finding it with in me. Yet everyday I stare at the same reflection, and follow the same routine, and yield the same results. I don't change, and the situation around me stays the same.
I find it so hard to find viable qualities in myself. I am not the best version of me. I am a lonely 31 year old single male who has never had a girlfriend, and who doesn't know how to behave around women. That though depresses me more than anything else. If I were to find a relationship, how does this make me look? Things like kissing and intimacy hold great wonder, but even greater fear. Most guys my age have been doing this half their life, and I have barely scratched the surface. What do I have to offer a woman? How can she not know she can do better when I think she can too.
I suppose writing out these fears are intended to help me confront that which I don't want to face. Even in rereading what I have wrote I still wonder if I will have a chance to live happily ever after or if I am destined for something far worse. Either way, tomorrow is another day.
End of Line.