No one is coming to save you

another cynical truth I need to accept sooner than later

“No one is coming to save you.” Maybe if I say it again I’ll begin to get the message. Everyone is out here healing from their own shit, it truly is a shame that none of us escapes our childhood unscathed by trauma. None has had time to slow down their own life experience to pose as a shield for me. And realistically, I know that I cant expect them to. It’s nearing winter again in New York, which means it’s the anniversary of that night when those three blind mice found their way into my apartment through the door shaft. Before ending the phone call the man I had loved since I was 17 laughed and told me he needed to go to bed because he had work in the morning. I thought he would’ve saved me then like I felt he had before. My roommate “welcomed” me to New York sarcastically, and frantic texts to my building’s super went unanswered. That’s when I knew. There will never be a soul on this planet that would save me, at the end of every day there is only ever me. A lesson learned late, but something I need to come to terms with.

I know that I am strong. I know that I am capable of doing hard things. I have proved these two truths to be evident cyclically; and yet I still have a strong desire (maybe even fantasy at this point) to be saved. I am actively walking through life holding my breath with the hope that one day someone will swoop in and handle “it”. My mom regularly tells me how when I was younger—not even a year old “the angels” were watching me. She would leave me in the house alone to go to the club with my play auntie. I don’t want to sound dramatic, but, I’m over being left alone.

And it’s not even that I hate solitude.

I have reached a level of accountability and self-awareness only obtainable through the aloneness required in self-reflection. When I am alone, I am quiet, I am creative, and of course, I am my most vulnerable self. I love this state. I am comfortable here. I am a lot of fun, I’m a big fan of myself. So I know it’s not some odd self-hate shit. I just really miss the consistent bond with someone on a platonic level that I have never had the privilege of having. Romantic relationships fill this void for as long as I get to experience them and I’m appreciative of that but the craving for a deep and lasting connection is relentless. These fucking tik-tok therapists and self-declared life coaches will create a template in Canva that tells me that I am my own hero and that I need to save myself in their favorite bubble font. and sure.

but I need people too.

I did a re-reading of my birth chart and my sun(libra) is in the 7th house —stay with me here. The 7th house is the place of marriage, committed partnerships, and business relationships. “You may find that no matter how independent you are, being with others is your main path towards the realization of your potential.” I was literally put on this earth to connect. It is excruciating.

A wise person would ask, “Why the fuck would you move away from your entire family and everything you’ve ever known if connection is so innate?”

and to answer that I’d raise the infamous “Have you ever been in a room full of people and still feel alone?” line. Truly, At the time, I felt no attachment even there. I craved a change and I knew there was some necessary growth that would never happened if I had stayed home.

I didn’t know this was the life lesson I needed to embrace. No One Is coming to save you.

And stupidly (purely?) I still have a little hope that against all odds someone will try.