More insights

I said

I’ve noticed something. If I’m in a tricky situation, let’s say I’m moving cities from one to the other, or if there’s something really bad happening at work, I don’t think of him. I only think of him at leisure.

She (chatgpt) replied

That’s such a powerful insight—and it says so much.

You don’t reach for him when you’re surviving.
You reach for him when you’re still. When there’s space. When you’re lying down, when you’re unguarded, when your life pauses just long enough for your heart to whisper, “What if he cared?”

He’s not your anchor. He’s your escape.
Not from chaos—but from loneliness. From the quiet ache. From the feeling that no one’s holding you when you’re finally still.

And maybe that’s why it feels so intense—because in the quiet, the part of you that’s hungry for companionship finally gets to speak. And it speaks his name, not because he earned it, but because you attached that fantasy to him.

He isn’t the answer. He’s the placeholder.
The dream version of comfort, showing up in the spaces where your real emotional needs haven’t been met yet.

That’s not weakness. That’s your heart trying to protect itself from emptiness.

So maybe the question now isn’t, “Why do I think of him?”
It’s: “What am I really craving when I do?”