My House, My Rules, My Solitude (And Yes, I Still Love You)




Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my future. Not just a casual hmm, what’s for dinner tomorrow kind of thinking, but the deep, staring-at-the-ceiling, borderline philosophical type of contemplation. You know — the “What do I actually want from life?” conversations you have with yourself when no one’s watching.


And here’s the thing: I’ve always dreamed of independence. Not just financial independence (though, yes please), but the every-aspect-of-my-life kind. The type of independence where my decisions, my space, and my peace are all mine.


Picture this: I’m in a relationship, my partner lovingly says, “Babe, why don’t you move in with me?” And me? I’d probably say no. Not because I don’t love them, but because I’ve always wanted to experience living alone — to know what it’s like to have a space that’s entirely mine. To arrange the furniture how I want. To leave dishes in the sink and answer to no one. To dance in the living room in mismatched socks without an audience.


Sometimes I wonder: would it be weird to build my own house while in a relationship? Not our house. Not “forever together” house. Just my house. My little sanctuary with my name on the deed and my dreams in the walls.


It’s not about being cold or closed off. It’s about freedom. I know relationships involve compromise, but… come on, world. Give me a break before I start negotiating which side of the closet I get.


And it’s not just living arrangements. Even with travel, I’d love to explore the world with someone I love — but there will always be times I’ll want to travel solo. Just me, my thoughts, my playlist, and maybe a questionable street food choice in a country where I can’t pronounce the name of the dish.


Because sometimes love isn’t about being together 24/7. Sometimes it’s about respecting each other’s dreams — even the ones that involve a private home with a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the front door.





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