A Story about being Lonely as Fuck

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I am going to write an essay about life.
Life is difficult and yet still a lot of fun, so is love. Unfortunately I only got lucky with the first of those two.
I want to fall in love, I want to be desired, I want to be the first thing somebody thinks about when they wake up. Am I idle, is this only a way to cure me myself from my insecurities? Do I need someone else to love me so I can love myself?
I just love love. It makes me so happy when my friends tell me about their successful relationships and I admire the ones who don't have a love life and simply don't care.
It's going to happen someday. Right?
I don't fit in with either categories. I wish I would.
But I am stuck in the middle, trying not to care that nobody wants me while desperately craving this affection and connection, constantly falling in love with the idea of love, idolizing strangers I see on the street, attributing them qualities I don't even know they have, imagining the perfect relationship wich will never become a reality because I am not a character in some Netflix teen romcom.
Although sometimes I wish I was. So I could experience love, even if it's only through the eyes of the person I'm portraying. Not your own love but maybe close enough?
Sometimes my heart is so full of unwanted love that it feels like I am going to explode if I have to hold it in any longer. I'd paint a rubyred picture on my walls.
So that everybody can see the pain I'm feeling. But if I visualize it I make it real. If I talk about it I make it real. They all say „One day you are going find someone who loves you for who you really are". But what if what I am is not enough?

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