I've always relied on romantic love as a sort of drug. To love and be loved is what I've always lived for, since I was a little girl... which is probably why so much of my ideals and expectations about love are clothed in a fairytale-like sheen. 

For example, the kind of love I always wanted to have was one where we were the centre of each other's universes. We would always put the other first and always think of the other before doing anything. Ideally, no one else would even exist, and it would just be the two of us. I used to tell my ex that I wished it would just be the two of us on another planet, looking at the stars together, because it always seemed like problems only arose when other things or people got thrown into the mix.

My therapist pointed out that this was an enmeshed and codependent relationship, and that it would be severely unhealthy. I argued that maybe it didn't matter if it was unhealthy as long as I was happy. She asked if I would be happy giving the rest of the world up for one person, and I said that I would, as long as they did the same for me. 

My therapist pointed out that fairytales don't actually end "happily ever after" once two people get together or get married, but instead, the narrator relies on "happily ever after" to avoid telling you about all the troubles that arise after they become a couple. That's what real life is like, and there will NEVER exist a person who can manage to live up to my expectations, because people are flawed and they will inevitably disappoint me. And of course, the main issue is that I cannot rely on someone else for my happiness, the happiness has to come within etc etc.

Here's the thing: intellectually, I get all of that. I really do. I understand the logical concepts behind how impossible and unhealthy all of that is. And I know I've been clinging on to this since I can remember because it's my security blanket and my coping mechanism. Without love and all its intensity, I would just be empty. My entire life would feel dull and meaningless and I would start to question the meaning of life. My life feels so pointless to me that I don't *want* to live it for myself. I can't. My life exists not for me, but for me to mould around another person (although the catch, of course, is that I need the other person to do that too). 

But despite all that awareness, how do I successfully convince my heart (...or less romantically, the little voice in the back of my head) that I need to stop longing for this? 