Love.

Everyone wants to tell me to “live your best life”, sleep around, have an active sex life, enjoy my freedom because I’ll only be young once. But I don’t think of myself as that kind of woman anymore.

I want sex to mean something, to have value. I want love that’s honest. I want love that’s true.

Sometimes I get lonely. Aren’t we humans after all? Don’t we all yearn for something that makes us feel alive? Working on yourself to be a better person while being alone can feel lonely at times.

I’d love to take a bath with someone while we drink wine at 10am on a Sunday, someone who would sway my hips as I laugh while we cook pancakes at 2am in our underwear because we can’t sleep. Someone to play with my hair while I lay on their lap. Someone I can curl myself into, and breathe themselves in while they rub my back. Someone to kiss me one hundred times in a day because they thought of me that much.

I don’t want sex.

I want love that’s real.

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