Chronically Ill and Chronically Out-of-Love

Chronically Ill and Chronically Out-of-Love

by Natasha Kacharia from the United States

When I was seven, I wanted to become a princess. Not for the reasons most girls wanted to become princesses: the pink fluffy gowns, the silver sparkling tiaras, the popularity, the power, and basically their entire life served on a silver platter. No, I wanted to become a princess because I wanted true love, and well that only seemed to happen in fairy tales.

Fifteen years later, I have not met my true love. Sometimes, I am not sure that I even believe in true love. I go on dates, and for the most part, the guys tend to be nice, but there is no spark. There is nothing special. They all seem interchangeable, replaceable. At first I was adamant that the guys were the problem, but the more dates that I go on, the more I realize that I am the issue.

I am emotionally distant.

My detachment is not purposeful. I binge watch these all-consuming relationships - Romeo and Juliet, Blair and Chuck, Harry and Sally - and more than anything, I want to be so deeply in love with someone that the idea of living without them makes it hard to breathe.

But I just cannot bring myself to care about the little things, such as who texts first, who my significant other talks too, that I used to obsess over in high school. And, it is not just the little things that I could care less about, it is the big ones as well. A long-term boyfriend cheated on me, and I broke up with him partially because of my pride and partially because it was the expected thing to do. My friends thought he broke my heart, but they did not know what I did: my heart was already broken. And, it was not broken by any guy or relationship. It cracked by watching my body attack itself. Then, it cracked even further watching my old life slip through the cracks. My body broke my heart.

No guy can hurt me because no matter their level of betrayal, it could not even begin to compare to the level of betrayal that I experience by simply looking at my reflection. So here I am, twenty-two-years-old, and I love the idea of being in love more than I have ever loved a guy himself.

Maybe, I have already met my true love. Maybe, I have not. I am not sure, but what I am sure about is that I need to learn to love myself, love my body for what it is, and what it provides before I am able to fall in love with someone else. I need to mend my broken heart because I may always be chronically ill, but I do not always have to be chronically-out-of-love.

 

“I need to mend my broken heart because I may always be chronically ill, but I do not always have to be chronically-out-of-love.”

 

Featured photo by Leah Vieantana from Pexels.