Sweeter Than Sovereignty

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There’s something deeply beautiful about my solitude.
It nourishes me. It reflects me. It holds me.

But even in that space of sovereignty, I still long for a partner.

Not from lack. Not from fear.
But from the desire to be held in the same way I’ve learned to hold myself.

And I’ve come to realise:
If someone can’t meet me in the depth I’ve created within,
if they can’t hold me better than I already hold myself—
then I won’t bring them close.

Not as a partner. Not as a friend.
Because I’ve worked too hard to meet myself with grace and care.
It’s not worth the energy to continually teach someone how to see me,
when they’ve never learned how to see themselves.

I want love that expands me, not contracts me.
I want connection that nourishes, not depletes.
And if I settle for less than that, I deny myself the opportunity
to be truly met by someone capable of the depth I know exists.

It’s a quiet trust now.
A trust that maybe I’ll be alone for a long time—
maybe forever.
But that solitude is still sweeter than the loneliness of being unseen in a relationship.
Still sweeter than the slow erosion of my worth through a thousand paper cuts.

And when I meet someone who holds themselves the way I’ve learned to hold me—
I’ll know.

Until then, I will stay sovereign.
Because that, too, is love.