I am not happy.

I just turned thirty-four, and I have nothing. No significant other, no kids, no house. No career that I’m passionate about. Friends who are great, for now, but who are all eventually going to get married and have kids and have their own lives.

Everything feels temporary. But I crave permanence- the permanence of love that lasts forever. The bond with your own children that can never be destroyed. A house that I can live in forever, that I can raise a family in, that I can grow old in.

My life is empty.

And the worst part is that I’m constantly reminded of the fullness of other people’s lives. I don’t just mean through social media, either. Just normal conversation revolves around the things I don’t have. People talk about their kids, their spouses, their houses. I had a moment at a work outing once when I realized that out of a group of eleven, I was the only one who was completely single.

And yes, I know that having a happy marriage, kids, and a house doesn’t make life perfect. But it does make it a whole lot better. And I can’t stand it when people complain about these things. Your husband won’t clean something you told him to? YOU HAVE A HUSBAND! Your kids won’t sleep through the night? YOU HAVE KIDS! Your house needs repairs? YOU HAVE A HOUSE! I have none of those things, and I don’t think people who have them realize how badly I want their problems.

I mean, my God, I don’t even have a pet, and I can’t have one in my current building. When I come home, I’m completely alone. And it might stay that way forever.

I’m running out of time. I’m turning thirty-four. The older I get, the harder it will be to have kids. The harder it will get to find someone unless I majorly settle. And the kind of guy who’d actually want to be in a relationship with me would probably be the kind of guy I’d be settling for.

Because what the hell do I have to offer? Physically, I keep gaining weight. I’ve always had something that kept me from being attractive- first my teeth, then my acne, and now my weight. I can’t look at myself in the mirror. I try to avoid having my picture taken. Seeing pictures of myself can make me break down in tears.

I’ve lost all my motivation to write. I used to love it and now I just…can’t do it. I’ve lost motivation to exercise and eat healthy, too, which just makes me fatter.

I’m selfish and depressed and jealous and constantly angry. And someone like that does not deserve love. I cannot imagine why anyone would ever love me.

I try to give myself things to look forward to- vacations, theater, etc. But it will only last for so long, and it can’t make up for the deeper longings of my heart.

I want to see couples when I’m out in public and not have to look away because of the pain it causes me.

I want someone to hug me when I get home.

I want to automatically have someone to accompany me to the things I want to do, or at least someone to ask.

I want someone I can bounce my thought off of when I get home.

I want to hear “I love you” from someone who’s not related to me.

I want to feel what it’s like to really love someone.

I want to be NECESSARY in someone’s life.

I want to have someone to cuddle with when I’m cold.

I want to have a plus one to weddings.

I want to be pregnant, to give birth, to breastfeed.

I want to hold a baby in my arms and never want to let her go.

I want to take endless pictures of my kids and annoy people by constantly talking about the cute things they do.

I want to go crazy because of all the driving to soccer practice, etc. I have to do.

I want to walk out into my backyard and look at my house, and my street, and my family, and think, This is mine.

And I can’t bear the thought of losing the hope of ever having these things.