Through The Looking Glass

I’m in my twenties, and apparently, this is the time of my life when I’m supposed to be out there, getting into messy flings, making “mistakes,” and swiping through faces like they’re menu options. But here’s my truth, I’m looking for something different. Something deeper. Something almost impossible to explain.

I want a love that doesn’t begin and end with attraction. I want someone who looks at me and just knows. Knows that I’m for them, that I’m theirs in a way that has nothing to do with ownership and everything to do with recognition. Like souls colliding, like threads weaving back together after lifetimes of separation.

And yet, the world makes me feel like I’m asking for too much. That if I’m not jumping at every opportunity for passion, for physicality, for instant gratification, then I must not really want love at all. But I do. I just don’t want the kind that fizzles out as soon as the heat dies down. I want something that simmers, that stays, that doesn’t need constant re-ignition because the glow never truly fades.

I don’t want someone to desire my body more than they cherish my heart. I want them to hold my soul with reverence, to find poetry in the way I think, to see every shade of me and never flinch. I want a love that exists beyond the physical, beyond the surface, beyond the fleeting rush of want. A love that is steady. Unshaken. Something that doesn’t wither under the weight of time, but instead grows roots so deep that even in silence, even in distance, it remains unbreakable.

I crave a connection that is rare, one that feels like finding a missing piece of myself in another person. Someone who, when they look at me, doesn’t see a question mark, a maybe, or an option among many. I want someone who looks at me and says, “Of course, it’s you.” Not because I have to convince them. Not because I checked off the right boxes. But because, from the moment they saw me, something in them simply knew.

I want to be adored in a way that doesn’t just feel like passion, but purpose. To be chosen, not out of convenience or temporary fascination, but because there is no other choice in their heart. I want to be someone’s certainty in a world full of doubts. Their soft place to land, their unwavering truth, the soul they look at and never, ever want to lose.

Maybe that’s a fairytale. Maybe that’s naïve. Maybe the world will call it unrealistic, foolish, or idealistic. But honestly? I’d rather hold out for something that feels like home than settle for a love that only knows how to visit. I’d rather be alone than give my heart to someone who only wants to borrow it.

Besides, I’ve seen the alternative. Dodgy dating apps, awkward small talk, and people who are more interested in playing games than building something real. No, thanks. I’d rather wait for the one who looks at me like I’m the last puzzle piece they’ve been searching for, not just another distraction. Until then, it’s me, my books, and a ridiculous amount of tea.