I’m terrified of being hopeful.
Every time I start to think, “Maybe this is the one,” I end up being shown, over and over again, that I was wrong. And I am grateful, truly, for all the amazing souls I’ve met on this journey. But every time, there’s been something that makes the fit just not quite right.
Sometimes it’s me not feeling the spark, even when the good qualities are obviously there.
Sometimes the communication brushes up against a wound without meaning to, and it becomes something that just can’t be worked through.
Sometimes life throws something in the way, and the other person just isn’t ready, or willing, to face it with me.
Every single time, my “maybe” has been met with, “No, not this time.”
And then the very day I finally decided to stop gripping so hard, to stop white-knuckling my destiny and just let go, I opened a DM on TikTok from a man 1,800 miles away. And once again, I felt that hope rise up in me. Once again, I caught myself thinking, “Maybe this is the one.”
And that is terrifying.
Because the logistics of this one are different from everyone else. This one feels heavy. Serious. High risk, high reward. It feels like everything is on the line, because finding a person who feels like home is rare. And if it’s true, if it’s real, then it would be worth the risk.
But God, to be wrong again… I don’t know how many more times I can walk into something new with hope before there’s nothing left.