I used to always leave a little space inside myself for someone. I thought: I'll meet someone with whom I'll want to make plans, buy groceries together, argue over trivial things, make up in the kitchen, and laugh at some silly thing before bed.

I used to believe that love was bound to come at a certain moment, as if it had a schedule. And then I realized: love has no deadline.

I no longer want to meet someone just because I'm afraid of being alone. I don't want to settle for a semi-presence, infrequent messages, and a relationship in which I constantly have to guess whether I'm needed. Perhaps I once too often confused love with the expectation of love.

Now I feel calm. Sometimes I feel sad, of course. There are evenings when I want someone to hug me for no reason. I want to hear, "I'm here for you." And I won't pretend I don't need it.

But now I know: loneliness isn't proof that there's something wrong with me.

I just haven't met my person yet. And, perhaps for the first time in my life, I'm not going to lose myself for it.