damn it gets cold at night

i wouldn’t say i’m lonely

that’s the thing people always get wrong. they think if you’re craving love, it must mean you’re empty, desperate, incomplete. but that’s not it. my life is full in a lot of ways. i have my people, my goals, my distractions, my moments.

but there are nights… yeah, there are nights.

nights where everything goes quiet. where the music stops hitting the same, where scrolling feels pointless, where even the things that usually keep me busy just don’t land. and in those moments, it’s not noise i want. it’s not more people.

it’s one person.

someone next to me. not even talking, not even doing anything special. just… there. presence. warmth. the kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty.

and that’s when it hits.

how hard it is to fall in love again.

because it sounds simple, right? just meet someone new, open up, let things happen. but no one really talks about what it takes to get there again. how much unlearning you have to do. how much you have to risk, knowing exactly how it can end.

it’s like your heart remembers everything.

it remembers what it felt like when it was real. when it was easy. when you didn’t have to think twice about giving someone your time, your energy, your attention. and now, it’s not that you don’t want that again… it’s that you know what it costs.

and suddenly, it’s not so easy to just “fall.”

you hesitate more. you question more. you hold back, even when you don’t want to. not because you’re scared of love itself, but because you understand it now. you understand the weight of it.

and still… i crave it.

not in a dramatic way. not in a “i need someone to complete me” way. just in a human way.

the kind of craving that shows up in small things. wanting to tell someone about your day and actually mean it. wanting someone to notice when your energy shifts without you having to explain. wanting to exist next to someone who just gets it.

i remember talking to my bro Ayola about this.

we were just having one of those real conversations, the kind where you’re not trying to sound smart or deep, you’re just being honest. and somehow we landed on this idea that humans aren’t built to do life alone.

and it stuck with me.

because for all this talk about independence and self-sufficiency, there’s a limit to it. yeah, you can stand on your own. yeah, you can build your life, chase your goals, become something. but at the end of the day, there’s a part of you that’s wired for connection.

not attention. not validation.

connection.

and you can’t fake that. you can’t replace it with achievements or distractions or temporary people. it either exists or it doesn’t.

maybe that’s why it’s so frustrating.

because i’m not asking for the world. i’m not chasing some perfect, unrealistic idea of love. i just want something real. something steady. something that feels like home, even if it’s just in another person.

but getting there again… that’s the hard part.

letting someone in again. choosing to be seen again. risking that kind of closeness again, knowing it could fall apart.

it’s easier to stay guarded. to stay comfortable in your own space. to convince yourself you don’t really need it like that.

until those nights come.

and you realise… yeah, maybe you do.

not because you’re weak. not because you can’t stand on your own.

but because you’re human.

and humans aren’t meant to do this alone