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Writer's pictureJenny

left swipe.

Left swipe, left swipe. None of these men will do.


Literally none.


I can't shake that unsettled feeling. The questionnaire asks me what I'm looking for. Skip. I don't know.


I keep left swiping until that unease grows in the pit of my stomach. The emptiness burrows into the fascia, necrotizing into deep tissue, hollowing everything out. I feel it, like an entity. It's palpable pain. My stomach churns. Hands shake.


The nothingness mutates from anxiety to rage to fear to loneliness. And then it settles on grief.


I close the app and hit delete and allow the feeling to settle in and be named. It is grief, I recognize it immediately and feel a somber sense of relief at the admission.


What is it I'm looking for? The phrase haunts me.


Love? No. It's not love.


What I'm looking for is a distraction. Perhaps validation. Anything to satisfy this needy grief that I'm afraid to be alone with.


Silly girl, don't you know that's where healing begins? Healing begins when you can sit alone with the emptiness, give it a name, and feel it. Listen to what it wants you to know. Stop looking for something or someone to replace it. Stop fearing the pain and move through it, with it, until it pulls you somewhere else.



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