romance, to most people, comes easily. like second-nature.
to me, it came in the form of deep confusion; it was hazy, and gray, not the vivid rose color everyone who is currently in love express it to be, and its also not the depressing shade of dark blue everyone who had been in love express it to be.
it was a concept lost to me, and i can't help but wonder if i was made differently than others.
for most, it was the slight touch of skin against your own, maybe something a person said that stuck in your head for hours and hours as you try to figure out the deeper meaning.
for me, it was none of that.
not that i haven't experienced that. not that i haven't experienced the touch of another's hand against my own. not that i haven't experienced the press of lips against my cheek. i had experienced all up until that, and it was up until that that i had decided i did not want any part of it whatsoever, i didn't want anything to do with romance.
and i am pretty sure romance doesn't want anything to do with me either.
because if it came so naturally to other people, why did it feel like such a struggle to me?
YOU ARE READING
thoughts of an aromantic
Non-Fiction"What's wrong with you?" he asked me. There that sentence hung in the air between us, and I remember now how I wasn't looking at him. How instead I looked up at the clouds that seemed to run faster than my thoughts. "Yeah, there's a word for it," I...
