Love is a many complicated/nauseating/confusing/painful (and don’t forget splendid) thing

I have a complicated history when it comes to relationships. I guess though that there isn’t anyone alive who doesn’t.

I haven’t dated anyone in over a year, and everything before that was…messy. I met a boy who I promptly fell for who said he was falling for me before something changed his mind; I managed to get past my heartache and he became my best guy-friend. After him there was someone else. We got to know each other, we spent some time together, and it fizzled out. After that, I quit. I was hurt and I swore that this was just a sign that I was meant to be alone forever because I was a fat and horrible human being who clearly didn’t deserve love.
These days, I’m not so sure. Obviously I know my old hypothesis is a load of rubbish, but I still have my demons and I’m trying to work through them. That clearly tells me that this isn’t a good time to be meeting anyone, that there are things I need to straighten out first. But I’m lonely.

And how is waiting to be “normal” different than waiting to be thin? Am I just substituting one for the other or do I truly just want to work on some things before I start putting myself out there again?

It’s easy, too easy, to keep doing what makes me comfortable, even if it’s destructive. Whether we are talking about food or relationships or self-treatment, life becomes what we allow ourselves to get used to, and I am used to being single and it doesn’t make me miserable. On the whole, my life is happy. There’s no reason to change.

Except for the fact that just writing this entry has made me want to eat a bag of candy corn.