I'm Always Losing Love
What dating is like for a socially anxious man
My heart beats. I know that because I can feel it pounding in my chest whenever I see her. She excites me and terrifies me at the same time. She's a conundrum. She could be my soul mate or a dream I'll never see the end to. But that's ok. Just a glimpse of her beauty is more than I deserve.
I don't mean to stare, but she makes me nervous. I want her to know my name.
Our eyes meet, but I'm scared, frozen. I can't speak. I need a sign to find the courage. Something undeniable...
She's gone.
.
*This story is an entry into the microfiction challenge*
**This may be fictitious, but it may as well be real. As a single man with social anxiety, I often experience interactions like this. I have missed out on many potential great loves due to the immobility my anxiety gives me. I live in a perpetual daydream of love but a reality unrequited.**
***Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Have you ever experienced something similar?***
About the Creator
Simon George
I write poetry, fiction, and non-fiction. In 2021, I published my debut book "The Truth Behind The Smile" a self-help guide for your mental health based on my personal experience with depression. Go check it out.
IG: @AuthorSimonGeorge
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Standing Tall
“Let them remember you”… Those were the last words his grandpa ever said to him. Billy’s crying. He’s hiding from his bully under the stairs. His grandpa’s words give him comfort and courage. He wipes his tears and stands tall, full of purpose. He marches down the corridor to sign up for the school talent show.
By Simon George3 years ago in Fiction
He Read Her Diary After She Was Gone
Ryan had always believed he knew Emily completely. She was the kind of person who could light up the darkest room with her laugh, a warm presence that made every day feel brighter. To him, she wasn’t just his girlfriend—she was home. For three years, their love was simple and beautiful. Late-night talks in her tiny apartment, stolen coffee breaks in the park, dreams whispered under the stars. Ryan imagined a future with her. He even thought about the proposal he’d one day give her. He thought they had time. He was wrong. It happened on an ordinary Tuesday. A call. A few words. His world shattered in a single heartbeat. Emily was gone. A car accident. Sudden. Unthinkable. Ryan didn’t know how to exist without her. Her laughter haunted the apartment. Her perfume lingered in empty rooms. Even the rain felt different now. It was a cruel, gray echo of the life he had lost. A week later, he returned to her apartment. He couldn’t stay away. Every corner of the space was a memory—a sweater draped over the chair, a half-finished cup of coffee on the counter, her books stacked neatly by the window. It was as if she might walk in any second and tease him about leaving the lights on. But she didn’t. As Ryan wandered through the apartment, he noticed a small, leather-bound diary tucked away in her bedside drawer. He froze. It was private. Personal. Her innermost thoughts. But an invisible pull urged him to open it. The first page was simple: “If anyone ever reads this… it means I didn’t get the chance to tell everything.” Ryan’s chest tightened. He read on. “Ryan thinks I’m strong. I wish he knew how much I struggle inside.” “I smile a lot. Not because I’m happy… but because I don’t want to burden him. He has enough to worry about.” Ryan’s throat constricted. He had never realized the weight she carried silently. “Some days, I feel lost. Like I’m not enough. But when he calls or texts something silly, the world feels okay, even for a moment.” Tears blurred his vision. She had been hurting… silently. And he hadn’t seen it. He turned another page. “I don’t know how much time I have. The doctor says it isn’t serious yet, but it could get worse. I haven’t told Ryan. I didn’t want our love to be shadowed by fear. I just want us to be happy.” Ryan’s hands shook. She had been sick… and he didn’t even know. “If something ever happens to me, I hope he doesn’t blame himself. He gave me the happiest years of my life. Even when I felt broken, he felt like home.” The next line made his heart stop: “I love him. I always have. I just haven’t said it enough… or in the right way.” The page ended abruptly. No “I love you” spoken aloud. Only ink on paper. Ryan sank to the floor. For three years, he had assumed she was fine because she smiled. But that smile had been a mask. Every laugh, every glance, every shared joke had hidden a depth of emotion he hadn’t understood—until now. He realized something profound: she had loved him silently, wholly, and completely. Even in her struggles, she chose to protect him from pain. He cradled the diary to his chest, letting the tears flow freely. He whispered, “I wish I had known… I would have been there for you, Emily. Always.” Days passed, and Ryan couldn’t stop thinking about her words. Slowly, they became his guide. He noticed people more, listened more, and loved more deeply—not because he had lost Emily, but because he had understood her fully for the first time. One year later, Ryan returned to the small park where they had spent countless afternoons. He sat on their favorite bench, diary in hand, heart heavy yet full. “I read everything,” he murmured to the sky, imagining her there beside him. “I understand now. I wish you had told me. But I understand why you didn’t.” A soft breeze brushed against him, carrying the faint scent of her perfume. He smiled through his tears. “I love you too, Emily,” he whispered. “I always did. And I always will.” For the first time since she was gone, Ryan felt a sense of peace. Because he knew that love isn’t about perfection or timing—it’s about understanding, even when it’s too late to say it out loud. And through her diary, Emily’s love had found its way back to him.
By Think & Learn5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Simon, you've pretty much pegged me on the social scene. We didn't figure out that I was autistic for 57 years. There was one person from my senior class of 344 who went to the same college. She was homecoming queen & always the belle of the ball. Everyone adored her. To top it off, she was a terrific person & genuinely nice to everyone. At college she started dating my roommate. Second semester, she had offered to teach me how to play Othello. While we were playing, she asked, "Why weren't you nice to me in high school? Your brothers always talked to me, but you never did." "Oh, Lynn," I responded. "I couldn't. I was never good enough for you. I couldn't even bear to try." After that, I figured out a way to break the ice. I'd simply ask her to marry me, she'd say no, we'd get to talking & become friends. That's essentially how I met my wife. She was one of two striking beauties in the incoming class at seminary (sorry for the objectification, but it was an empirical fact). She had volunteered for a committee of which I was the chair. Two of her classmates who were desperately smitten with her were also on the committee. Every meeting I would torture them by saying that yeah, the two of us were going to get married. After about a month of this, she came up to me in private & said, "You have to stop doing that. It's too mean to them." I responded, "Okay, but if we can't get married, can we at least go out on a date?" She said, "Yes," & the rest is history. We've now been married for over 37 years.
This is so sad and relatable! felt the emotion deeply! Before I was married I was incredibly socially awkward and was not successful in love! Doubt I'd be much different now! Great piece and I know how it feels!