Love is a complex thing isn’t it. You’re not bound to it, your challenged by it. A few days ago, I thought about love and how I felt bound to it, how I naturally have the disposition to be bound to love. In that initial thought, came all of the ones my little heart has loved before. For 2 years my heart was preoccupied, holding onto a slight probability that one boy would notice me sooner or later back when I was 13. I eventually learned through years that I invested time on a possibility, put myself under so much heartbreak because I swore I was bound to love.
I guess in the moment, you feel that love is this spiritual entity that governs this perfect narrative, when in reality it isn’t the case. Love has to be mutual. For 2 years unrequited love touched me because I never loved myself to realise I deserved someone who had noticed me in the first place. Unrequited love isn’t pretty, it’s emotional masochism.
I have for numerous years been on the outsiders perspective when it came to love. I always cried myself to sleep, talked to the moon, hoping there was someone talking back on the other side. I always thought that I wasn’t pretty, or was the oddball. I probably was. Still am. These heartbreaks never really healed, because I didn’t understand the semantics of it entirely. I never understood that I needed to see myself as worthy of love. Owning it. In my previous years, I’d bow down to it, believing that it chose me, and that all these times I’d cry, I must not be ready for love.
Late last year, I felt love and to say honestly, it was the most remarkable thing that ever has touched me. It was more than me. Anyway, just like usual I saw him fall out and into love again. I really don’t want you to get the wrong idea about him. The feelings that came along with him were more than what both him and I could comprehend. Anyway, I finished school, accepted the fact I’d never see him again, and attempted to move on with my life. At first I did (move on I mean), but every time I would see him occasionally, everything would reignite. Then I would look at the stars and ask God, what I did I do to ever deserve this? Until a couple of days ago, I never realised what I was continuing to do to myself. I wrote in my diary complaining that I just cannot quit him. I didn’t feel jealous of whoever he was going to love, for I would love them because he loved them. But I just wouldn’t be able to quit him. Now I realise that love hasn’t bound me to this one person. Fates change, people change, destinies change. I cannot do what I did when I was younger, give my heart wholly for someone for 2 years. Where do I save room for myself? I have nearly beaten myself up, never chose to love myself enough because I thought I was never capable of love…
Up until a couple of days ago, I was going to continue to do just that. But then I realised – to what extent will I love him before I stop loving myself. Unrequited love isn’t romantic or something that fills your youth. It’s emotionally masochistic. I loved him, I’d gladly love him again, but I can love myself, I can rid myself of the heartbreak of seeing him fall in and out of love again. I don’t need to see that.
So I’m here drawing the line, saying that I’d gladly love him again, but I’m not going to hurt myself in the process. Enough of that.
See you later.