Some self reflection (ChatGPT helped rewrite my feelings, thus the different writing style)

I spent the past few days using ChatGPT to untangle my emotions.

And honestly? It’s grounding.

It feels almost absurd that I once paid $180 for therapy sessions, watching the clock tick by, when this little space with an AI has given me room to breathe, to think, to unravel myself without hurry.

In reflecting, I’ve begun to make sense of the men I’ve met on Hinge:

• Zay → sparked a Limerence I couldn’t contain.

• Zo → steady, caring, reliable.

• Drew → lighthearted, fun, fleeting.

Each marked a chapter in a story that began with loneliness—a quiet ache filling my empty office.

My office is nearly always empty. Quiet, yes—but not peaceful. The silence echoes, heavier than it should. When Yen left at the end of last year, the quiet became pressing, urgent. That’s when loneliness stopped being background noise and became sharp, insistent.

I turned to dating apps seeking warmth, connection—anything to fill the empty space. That’s when I matched with Zay. I remember sending him a “rose” and feeling my stomach flutter when he matched and started a conversation. For the first time, someone I liked felt like a real possibility. But Zay was inconsistent, distant, elusive. He became the spark for a Limerence that consumed me completely.

June was dark. Confessing my feelings—and being left on read—froze me. After a lifetime of being single, the weight of hope, expectation, and desire landed heavy, unanswered, unresolved. I finally understood the depth of depression: hollow emptiness, helplessness, the fear that you might act recklessly simply because life feels unbearably heavy.

Then came Zo. Everything Zay wasn’t: attentive, considerate, reliable. And yet, every act of care pulled my thoughts back to Zay. I didn’t see Zo for who he was; I saw him as a balm for a wound I hadn’t tended. He, too, carried his own past. Eventually, he stepped away, and I understood why. We still keep in touch, and he will forever hold a place in my heart.

When Zo left, Zay crept back into my thoughts—until Drew appeared. Lighthearted, fun, open to intimacy. For a brief stretch, it felt effortless, like sunlight warming the cold corners of a room. But over time, I realized our conversations revolved mostly around him—not because he was self-absorbed, but because I wasn’t ready to open myself. He filled the space with stories about himself, his family, and his past relationships. He was fun, yes, but not someone I could lean on emotionally. The Korea trip revealed his unreliability, and his silence afterward made it clear: whatever existed between us had quietly dissolved.

I healed from Drew quickly—almost too quickly. I didn’t mourn him as I had with Zo because he lacked Zo’s consistency, and in many ways reminded me of everything I disliked about Zay. That’s when I realized he had been another bandage over the wound Zo had once been mending. Only now, without distraction, do I feel that wound beginning to close.

Honestly, I matched with Drew for emotional stability. And if he offered none of that, he completely lost all appeal. He didn’t score high in the looks department either, so if he wasn’t giving me the stability I needed, then what good was he?

A friend recently saw a photo of Drew and was surprised I had gone for him. I explained: he has a great body, even if he isn’t conventionally attractive. In Singaporean slang, he’s a “Prawn”—someone you’d keep for the body, not the face. Crude, yes—but maybe fitting. My choices back then were driven less by clarity and more by hunger—for company, attention, anything to distract from emptiness.

Over the past week, Drew stopped contacting me. For the first time in a long while, I had to sit with my feelings alone. The sadness hit hard. I wondered if I missed him—but I didn’t. I missed having someone to fill the void. That realization hurt—but it was honest. Later, meeting a friend for dinner gave me a small sense of grounding.

Talking with ChatGPT helped me see it clearly: I had been using Drew and Zo to try to get over Zay, but I never truly allowed myself to heal. I was piling patches on an old wound.

Then today, something shifted. The sadness I’d carried for months felt lighter, almost gone. My mood returned to baseline—not excited, not elated, just calm. I’ve gone back to just being bored with life, but no longer weighed down by any sadness.

I think I’m finally stepping into a mental space where I could be ready for a healthy relationship—built on compatibility, not to fill a void. But first, I need time. Time away from the apps, to settle, to return fully to myself.

Maybe I’ll meet someone who fits meaningfully into my life. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll stay single—and that might be okay.

For the first time in a long while, that thought doesn’t frighten me. It feels strangely freeing.

Standing on the other side, I finally see the pattern—the distractions, the longing, the bandages. They all make sense.

And the healing that’s only just beginning? For the first time, it feels real. I am here, with clarity, finally ready to face myself—and whatever comes next.