What do We Want When We are Loved?

I don't know about the kind of answers that will pass through the mind of each of you who read that question. As an individual, if I speak for myself, the most important thing I want in any kind of relationship is the space to be myself.

Most often, when we decide to travel, see the world or take a call at doing something most people won't understand, they bombard us with questions expecting us to answer it the way they see life. While I am someone very bad at answering terrific questions, what I mostly do if I sense someone is not open to the answers of others is just smile, laugh off, and continue to do my thing. But the moment I feel that someone is telling me what to do with my life, I will take a step back. I'll be a very tough person to love when I feel suffocated in relationships, and I'm being very honest about it. :)

Last day I was having a conversation with someone via call who told me that this is the age where I have to do things that make sense. While I can see the same person being very unhappy each day with whatever he is doing with life, I tired to convince him that this is where my heart is. After a while, I also understood that all you have to do sometimes is to just not explain to people who are looking only for the answers they're been taught, and to people who don't see beauty in the answers we find for ourselves.

All of us have our own share of fears and desires. And while carrying that, the only strength we feel are mostly in relationships that hold higher degrees of friendship in them. Whether it is the one we have with our family, partner, friends, the only relationships we feel safe are the ones that let us go, watch from a distance, and are ready to catch when we fall. Let us not forget that at the end of the day, each person is their own who is striving to live through their own confusions, answers, beauty, and clarity.

To hold love for another is a beautiful feeling. But to do it gently is the key to keeping it alive.

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Remembering the Best of a Lot

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The Seasons in a Late Bloomer’s Life