JOURNAL ENTRIES OF AN AROMANTIC
“'Cause fear is strong, and love's for everyone who isn't me.”
— Burden in My Hand, Soundgarden
Written 9/11/23 and 9/13/23
My experience with romance is absurd.
Love is the most primal of desires. Humans are meant to want companionship, and yet, it nauseates me. Literally, it nauseates me. Anybody giving me romantic attention is so disquieting that it makes me physically ill. I don’t want the most primal of desires. It appears my desire for companionship was replaced with the desire for solitude.
Written 10/8/23
How much can I really know about life if I know nothing of love? All writing, it seems, is about love in some capacity. I have never loved, and I have been told that I am loved, though I have never felt that love. How can I write with this profound lack of experience?
Written 10/9/23
I will always feel inhuman for my disgust with and lack of desire for romance. Why is it that everybody but me wants human connection? Why is it that what people spend so much of their lives yearning for absolutely disgusts me? How can I reject something that is so fundamental to my DNA?
Emily, 21, Upstate New York - USA ✯