The dream is Dead

The Undateable Aspiring Author

Picture yourself in a room. A man you’ve never met before. You lock eyes and you feel that instant chemical spark. The one that you’ve always heard about but never believed was anything other than fairy tale magic or found outside of romance novels. You’ve never felt that feeling in your life and you’re shocked that it has finally happened.

Now come back to reality, realize the guy is married, and no matter how much he seemed flirty and compatible with you it was all a tease and you’ll never get to have it. That was my experience five years ago. It’s a feeling I wish I’d never have because I know it’s a feeling I will never have again outside of this one person. It hasn’t since that period of time, and believe me, I’d searched for it.

Though many people will dismiss this as a whole if it’s meant to be then it’s meant to be thing, or conversely, he can’t be your soulmate if he’s already married sentiments…it doesn’t matter. I know what I felt and I have been chasing that same feeling ever since it just hasn’t come. It’s not from a lack of trying either. I’ve been through many dating apps, talked to many guys, and tried many…many times within those years but I have come to face the fact that I am completely unloveable.

I believe dating apps, even the ones that promise they aren’t just for casual hookups are literally just for casual hookups. If I’m wrong about that then I’m certainly not any sort of wife material. I don’t do casual sex or one-night stands. I’m looking for something significant and real which is impossible in this day and age when apps like Tinder exist and guys can get sex with the swipe of a finger.

I’m not here to claim that men are the entire problem. I’m very self-aware of my own issues. I know I come with way too much baggage and have nothing to offer anyone. I’m not pretty, I’m fairly old, I have chronic illness issues, and my own passion and drive in life is to become a commercially successful author. My parents were so abusive to me growing up I have a clinical diagnosis of PTSD, massive trust issues, and anxiety problems. The only relationships I’ve ever had outside of my family were also abusive and terrible. Do I really know what love is? Probably not. I know what that spark was, though, and I know who it was with. I also know that’s never going to happen but I do get to suffer until the end of time knowing that I felt it once and it will never come back.

So where do I go from here? I can completely resign myself to never having any sort of love, companionship, or support from literally anyone (since that’s how I live my life currently) if I can find success as an author. I will give up everything I own to achieve that and pretty easily. The amount of writing I do for free right now is stupid. Clearly, it’s the only thing I want in life even beyond love if it has to be that way. However, I don’t think I can do both.

Despite publishing seven novels independently and having more success with that than I predicted (yet, far less success than I want) here I am with neither love nor a career. I can’t work a normal nine-to-five job due to my disability and a back injury I sustained at work. I can’t do anything other than write and even that’s getting hard to keep up with because I don’t see the point any longer. If dating isn’t an option then what is? Not getting out of bed ever again? Just wait 40 more years for death? Being alone? Resenting the fact that no matter how much work I’ve put into my craft and how hard I’ve tried to make something of myself it’s just never going to happen? Well, that’s the wall I’ve come up against.

I’m not over here waiting for everything to fall into my lap. Not only have I actively done the work of writing novels, attempting to market them, and everything else that comes with it…it’s been unsuccessful. Despite my attempts to find a partner and work on that for years that hasn’t worked either. It makes me question what I’m good for, why I’m here, and if I was unwanted from the start (remember: abusive parents anyone?) then what was or is the point of my life? I always thought it was to tell a story, to tell my story but no one is interested. I’m screaming into a void and that’s about it.

I’ve tried every avenue of social media with little to no engagement. I’ve tried to push a following that will never come to pass. I’ve tried to date men and I’ve even ignored red flags thinking that maybe I was just being too picky. Apparently, I can’t do either thing. I can’t exist in a dream where I get to have my creative outlet and I can’t also have someone to cushion the blow and comfort me or make me feel like I’m an actual worthwhile person. I’m stuck in a miserable existence watching everyone around me flourish and wondering what I’ve done so significantly wrong to deserve where I am now.

If you’ve found this pity party and actually read it, I’ll be surprised. I’ve learned in the past year or so no one wants to listen to me, no one wants to read what I have to say, and no one is interested in my opinions on anything. Why am I still going then? I’m a writer, that’s what I do. I will keep writing forever and be ignored forever and knowing my luck the only notoriety I’ll ever get is when I die and people realize that I used to have something to offer but they only bothered to care once I was gone.

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