HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE YEARNED FOR?

It's 1:37 AM, and the world outside is quiet, but inside, the question lingers like an old love song—how does it feel to be truly yearned for? Not just admired in passing or noticed for a fleeting moment, but ached for, like a lyric someone can't stop humming, like a home they keep searching for even in unfamiliar places. I've had admirers before, little moments that felt like hints of something more—names scribbled on the corners of notebooks, glances that lasted just a second too long—but is that the same as being loved? Not just a passing wish, but a devotion that stays, that doesn’t falter when things get messy, that doesn’t fade when time stretches the distance. Maybe that’s why I get lost in romance stories, in those perfectly imperfect love stories where no matter how much the world tries to pull them apart, they always find their way back. Love in those stories bends but never breaks, it stretches but never snaps. It makes me wonder—does that kind of love really exist? Is it waiting for me somewhere, in some unexpected place? Or is it just another 1:37 AM thought, drifting into the night, unanswered?