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Am I the reason I am alone?
That’s a deep question. Do you feel like you’re the reason, or is it something you've been told or assumed? Loneliness can come from a lot of different places—circumstances, past experiences, or even just being in a phase of life where connections feel distant. What’s making you ask this?
Feels like forever since I had a meaningful connection with someone.
That must feel frustrating or even lonely at times. Have you been actively looking for something serious, or has life just kind of led you in a different direction? A long gap doesn’t necessarily mean you’re the reason—it could be timing, circumstances, or even just not meeting the right person. What do you think has been the biggest obstacle?
I met people. Somehow I believe I am not chosen.
That feeling of not being "chosen" can be really painful. It can start to feel personal, like something is wrong with you—but that’s not the truth. Attraction and connection are complicated, and just because things haven’t worked out doesn’t mean you’re unworthy or not enough. Do you feel like there’s a pattern in the kind of people you’re drawn to? Or maybe a reason why things don’t progress? Sometimes, it’s about compatibility, timing, or even subconscious fears we don’t realize we have.
Maybe a subconscious belief that love doesn’t find everyone but only a handful lucky to have it
That belief can be really powerful—it can shape the way you experience love and relationships without you even realizing it. If deep down you feel like love is scarce or only for a lucky few, it makes sense that you’d see yourself as one of the ones left out. But is that really true? Love isn’t just about luck; it’s also about openness, connection, and sometimes even unlearning the things we’ve come to believe about ourselves. Do you feel like this belief has held you back from fully letting people in?
I think it stops love finding me
That makes a lot of sense. If, deep down, you believe love isn’t meant for you, it can create invisible barriers—maybe you hold back, don’t fully trust when someone shows interest, or attract people who confirm that belief. It’s not your fault, but it’s something that could be shifting your experience without you realizing it. What if love can find you, but this belief is making it harder to recognize or accept? If you could rewrite that belief, what would you want it to be?
if it all depends on me believing it seems so hard
I get that. If changing a belief was as easy as just deciding to think differently, you’d probably have done it already. It’s not about forcing yourself to believe something new overnight—it’s about slowly challenging the belief, bit by bit, and proving to yourself that another reality is possible.
Instead of jumping to “love is meant for me,” what if you started with something softer, like:
💛 Love is possible for me.
💛 I am open to the idea that love can find me.
💛 I don’t have to have it all figured out, but I can take small steps toward believing in love.
Beliefs shift through experience. Maybe the first step isn’t believing, but just being open to seeing things differently. What’s one thing you could do that might challenge this belief, even in a small way?
but it feels so selfish to wish for one romantic love when the world is suffering so much
I hear you. When there’s so much pain in the world, it can feel almost selfish to want something as personal as love. But the truth is, love—real, deep, human connection—is one of the things that makes the world better. Your desire for love isn’t selfish; it’s natural. Love isn’t just about romance—it’s about kindness, care, and connection. And when people feel loved, they tend to spread that love outward. Imagine how much more compassion and goodness could come from you feeling loved and fulfilled. Wanting love doesn’t mean ignoring the world’s suffering. You can care about both. You deserve both. 💛 What would it feel like to allow yourself that?
but love feels so elusive
Yeah, it really can. Love isn’t something you can chase down or force—it has this way of showing up when you least expect it, and sometimes, it feels like it’s avoiding you altogether. That can be exhausting and discouraging. But love isn’t just about luck or fate. It’s about connection, openness, and sometimes even unlearning the ways we’ve been protecting ourselves from it. Maybe it’s not about finding love, but about allowing it—allowing yourself to believe you’re worthy of it, allowing yourself to be seen, allowing yourself to trust that it’s possible for you. If love feels elusive, what do you think makes it feel that way? Is it the people you’ve met? The way things have played out? Or something deeper?
I have been left for other people
That hurts. Being left for someone else can make you question your worth, even when it says more about them than it does about you. It can plant this quiet fear—Am I not enough? Will this happen again?—and that fear can linger, shaping the way you see love and your place in it. It makes sense that love feels elusive if your experience has been one of being chosen and left. But being left doesn’t mean you weren’t worthy of staying for. It means those people weren’t the right ones. And I know that doesn’t erase the pain, but it does mean your story isn’t over. Do you think that fear still plays a role in how you approach love now? Maybe keeping you guarded, even without realizing it?
I don't know if it is fear or a lack of faith
It’s hard to tell sometimes, because fear and a lack of faith can feel so similar. Fear often feels like a protective instinct, trying to shield you from getting hurt again, while a lack of faith can make it hard to even believe that love is possible or worth pursuing.
If it's fear, it might show up as hesitation or second-guessing when you meet someone new, or maybe even avoiding connections to protect yourself. But if it’s a lack of faith, it might be that deep down you question whether love is something that can truly last for you.
What do you think resonates more with how you feel right now? Is it that you’re afraid of being hurt again, or do you sometimes doubt that love is really something that could be in your future?
questioning whether love is something that can truly last for me
I understand. When you’ve been through moments of love that didn’t last, it’s easy to start wondering if it’s ever meant to stick around for you. Maybe you’ve seen others find lasting love and thought, Why not me? It can make it feel like love is something that happens for some people but not for everyone—and definitely not for you. But love isn’t a one-size-fits-all thing. Just because it hasn’t lasted in the past doesn’t mean it can’t in the future. Each experience teaches us something different, even if it doesn’t feel that way at the time. Maybe the key now is in trusting that love can be lasting, even if you’re unsure how it looks or when it’ll show up. What if you started to believe that, despite everything, you deserve love that sticks around? What would change for you, if even for a moment, you could hold that belief in your heart?
I just think in this life, at this age, after all the life I have lived I feel it won’t be in the picture like it is not written in my script like my character doesn't get to play a person who finds love
I hear that. It’s like you’ve lived enough life to feel like love might not be part of your story anymore, like it’s been written off for your character. It makes sense to feel that way when things haven't gone the way you hoped. When time passes and the love you envisioned hasn’t shown up, it’s easy to feel like it's just not meant for you.
But here’s the thing—your story isn’t over yet. Sometimes the most beautiful parts of our lives come in chapters we never expected. Even though it feels like love might not be part of your script right now, what if your script isn’t finished? What if there’s a twist in your story you haven’t seen yet?
You are worthy of love. You’ve lived and experienced so much, and that depth adds to your capacity to love and be loved in ways that someone younger or less experienced might not understand. What if this part of your life is exactly where love is waiting to meet you, in a way that fits you now—not in the way you thought it would happen?
Is there a part of you that’s open to believing that maybe, just maybe, love could still surprise you, even if it’s not the way you imagined?
I wish but there is a part of me that believes I will ruin it in the end
That feeling—like you’ll ruin it, even if love does come—is so tough. It’s like this quiet voice that warns you, almost as if you’re bracing for the worst before it even happens. That fear can come from past experiences, where things ended badly, or from a belief that you’re somehow not capable of sustaining love. But here’s the thing: you are not the sum of your past, and you’re not doomed to repeat old patterns.
We all carry scars, and sometimes, those scars make us believe we’re destined to mess things up. But love isn’t about being perfect. It’s about growth, learning, and finding someone who understands you—flaws, fears, and all. If you do ever make a mistake, it doesn’t mean you’re destined to ruin everything. It means you’re human.
What if you gave yourself permission to be imperfect in love, knowing that even in the mess, you’re still worthy of it? Do you think that’s something you could let yourself believe?
I still can't shake the feeling that my soul isn't meant to have this experience
I can really feel the heaviness of that. When you hold that deep belief—that your soul wasn’t meant to experience love—it can create this quiet resignation, like it’s just not part of your destiny. It can feel isolating, like you're watching others live out a story that you can’t access.
But here’s the thing: love isn't a one-size-fits-all experience. And just because it hasn’t looked the way you envisioned, or hasn't been a constant in your life, doesn’t mean it's not still something meant for you. It might be waiting to come to you in a form you haven’t yet imagined, or in a season of life you haven’t yet entered.
Your soul is meant for connection. And that connection can come in different forms—romantic, platonic, or even self-love—each of which plays a part in shaping the full experience of love in your life. Sometimes, it’s about loosening that grip on what we think love should be and allowing it to show up in ways we didn’t expect.
What if you started to believe that love is meant for you, just in its own time, in its own way? How would that shift your view of what’s possible?
Could it be that I don't actually want a romantic relationship because I am too fond of my solitude, or is it just an excuse to cover my loneliness?
It’s a really insightful question, and honestly, it’s hard to say exactly what’s true without exploring both sides of it. Sometimes, we do find comfort in our solitude because it’s familiar, safe, and allows us to have control over our world. Solitude can feel nourishing, especially if you’ve grown to appreciate your independence and the space to do things on your own terms. That’s not something to dismiss—it can be a sign of self-reliance and personal strength.
But on the other hand, loneliness can quietly creep in, even when we enjoy being alone. Sometimes, we use our fondness for solitude as a shield to avoid the vulnerability that comes with intimacy, or we convince ourselves we don’t want a romantic relationship because it feels safer than facing the pain of feeling disconnected.
Maybe it’s not about choosing one or the other, but about recognizing both parts of you. You might truly appreciate your solitude while still feeling a longing for connection—and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not ready for love, but that you’re holding a delicate balance between wanting your independence and desiring companionship.
Have you noticed if you feel more lonely than solitary at times, or do you genuinely find peace in being by yourself?
I really enjoy my solitude, reading, taking long walks and writing, but I can't help but think it is all an escape from the reality of not having someone to share moments
That’s a really honest reflection. It sounds like your solitude is a source of fulfilment, and it offers you space for things that bring you peace, like reading, walking, and writing. Those are beautiful ways to connect with yourself. But I get what you’re saying about the sense that it might also be an escape—because, deep down, there’s still a part of you that longs to share those moments with someone.
It’s like your solitude provides comfort, but there’s still this empty space that only connection with another person can fill. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean your solitude isn’t meaningful or that you should feel bad about enjoying it—it just means you’re human. We all have parts of ourselves that yearn for connection, even when we’re content in our own company.
Maybe the key is finding a balance between the two. Enjoying your solitude, but also being open to the idea that sharing those moments with someone can be part of your life, too, without needing to give up what you love about being on your own. Is there a way you could invite love into your life without losing that peace and independence you value so much?
it really depends on the other person, doesn't it? He should be open to accept me. Over summer I met this guy who ended our very new relationship saying that I should go back to my books and walks , that it seems like I am happier that way and we don't really go well together
That must have been tough to hear, especially when you were just starting to explore something new. His words feel like a judgment on both who you are and what you enjoy—like he didn’t truly see the full picture of you or how you balance solitude and connection. It’s easy to internalize that as maybe there’s something wrong with the way you live or what you need, but honestly, it sounds more like he wasn’t able to accept and appreciate both sides of you.
A healthy relationship, especially early on, should be about mutual understanding, respect, and the willingness to grow together. It doesn’t mean you have to change who you are or give up the things that bring you peace. If someone really sees you, they’ll understand that your love for solitude is part of what makes you who you are, and they’ll find a way to appreciate it, rather than push it aside.
His comment, though painful, likely says more about his own limitations or his inability to connect with someone who values their independence. If someone truly wanted to be with you, they’d respect your need for alone time and be willing to share moments with you in ways that complement your life, not take away from it.
What do you think you need from someone to feel accepted in your full self—solitude and all?