There’s always that pesky feeling of loneliness that stems, no doubt, from the persistence of an inability to relate. The Beatles are getting less play these days, and The Smiths are on the cusp of its resurgence as my popular authority: this is how I know I’m coming up on a personal shift (juvenile, I know.)

I’m not depressed by it like I used to be, nor does it dominate me in such a way that I make hasty and inadvisable social interactions out of desperation for connection I know I could never possibly gain from the convenience of my proximity. I guess this is how I know I’m growing up. It used to grip me so hard, and these days I see there is so much more out there than this one feeling — still, in spite of my overall contentment, it is at least one thing that’s missing in my life and no number of accomplishments could serve to compensate for its lacking.

I want to find someone I don’t have to just tolerate, whose company I desire and who makes me want to be something greater than myself. That I expect someone like this exists is another sign of past lessons learned, or maybe my recent optimism.

Life is just far too easy on its own to not find someone who challenges you.