I Don’t Want To Be Your Other Half

Why do we search for love as if we have something missing?
As if we need something, someone to make us full?

Why do we believe the search for love is the search for ourselves? When in reality, love is not about looking to be solved, but to be complimented. To grow together, yet separately, as two distinct and beautiful beings.

I don’t want to be your other half. As if you were not whole when you met me. As if there was this absence you never quite understood. As if you never knew what you were missing, or never tried, on your own, to be complete.

I don’t want to be your other half. As if there’s a chunk of you that belongs to someone else. As if you’ve been searching, all this time, for someone to fill the void. As if anyone could solve your emptiness, by simply placing their heart in your hands.

I don’t want to be your other half—meaning, the glue that holds you together—the one thing that, without, you would fall completely apart.

I don’t want to be the person who is your answer, your everything, the one you’ve been needing simply because you didn’t know who you were before.

As beautiful as it sounds to be the woman who completes you, I want to fall for a person who is already complete. For a man who knows who he is and what he wants, and has decided he wants me.

I don’t want to be needed—meaning, the foundation in which you build yourself upon—the thing that, without, you would simply not exist.

I want to be desired in the sense of happiness, of love—not necessity.

I want to be wanted, not because I fill your emptiness, but because I make an already full heart even fuller. Not a solution to a problem, but a blessing—both of us blessing each other.

I want to be something, someone that is not the reason for living, but makes this life even more worth living.

I don’t want to be your other half. Not the purpose behind getting up in the morning, but what motivates you to rise with joy each day. Not the sole explanation for your happiness, but a soul that brings happiness with each breath, step, kiss.

I don’t want to be your other half. Not the woman that makes you whole, but the one who compliments your already, inherent wholeness. Who stands by your side as a partner, as a co-pilot, as a right-hand woman, as a lover, a best friend, a promise of forever without the fear of either of us losing who we are.

I don’t want to be your other half; I want to be each other’s joy each other’s choice, each other’s yes, each other’s always.

I want to be the woman you choose—not because you have to, but because you want to. Not because you can’t survive without, but because a life without each other is undesirable. Not because in my absence, you’d lose yourself. But because we find new pieces of ourselves in each other. And we grow—together and separate—beautifully, chaotically every single day.