Better Than Being Single

I used to feel like I had to get everything sorted before someone could walk into my life. The house. The career. The emotional regulation. Like I had to be finished — neat and polished — before I was ready.

But I don’t believe that anymore.

I’m building a life I love either way. I’ve got freedom, quiet, creativity, peace. I know who I am when no one’s watching. And for once, I’m not filling the silence out of fear — I’m letting it speak.

Would I love to share this with someone? Yes.
Would I trade my freedom for the wrong person? No.
Would I give it up for the right one? In a heartbeat. But only if it’s better than being single.

That’s the new standard: better than being single.

Because this single life? It’s not empty. It’s not lacking. It’s full of slow mornings, realignment, dog walks, dismantled sofas, growth, and stillness. It’s me, meeting myself again.

And if someone can meet me here — not to fix, not to rescue, not to complete — but to walk alongside?

Then they’re welcome.

But I’m not chasing. I’m not forcing.
I’m building. And I’ll keep building — because that’s the kind of life worth sharing.