Date: April 27, 2025
Author: Lillian Hart

I always told myself that my first real kiss had to be perfect. It had to be with someone who meant something to me — someone I could picture a future with. I romanticized it so much in my head, thinking it had to feel like fireworks or some movie scene where the world falls away.

But today? Today I would give anything just to have someone kiss me. To hold me. To hug me tight enough that for a few minutes I could pretend I wasn’t so lonely.

It’s sad, isn’t it? This shift from wanting something meaningful to just wanting… something. Anything that feels like comfort, even if it’s temporary and messy and not what I dreamed of.

I know it’s probably not a good idea. I know I’ll regret lowering my standards just because the loneliness feels too heavy to carry today. But when the nights get too quiet, when the ache under your skin becomes louder than your own thoughts, you start bargaining with yourself. You start wondering if maybe the perfect kiss isn’t real anyway — if maybe a half-hearted hug could be enough for now.

I hate feeling this way. I hate that I’m sitting here wishing for someone, anyone, just to touch me and remind me I’m real. But it’s where I am right now. And maybe tomorrow will be better.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll believe in that perfect kiss again.