In times of longing, I tend to lose myself
I hate having feelings for someone in a way that isn't borderline obsession (which is probably more acceptable to me because I'm nothing if not intense). I'd also be much comfortable if the attraction is purely physical or if the kind of fuck I want is something of the mental kind; stimulating...intellectual, a real celebration of orgasmic proportions. Most of all, these kinds of faltering attractions usually occur with the guys. I've only been able to sincerely love a girl before and I do not want to dwell on that history, but, suffice to say, I never thought I could actually develop feelings for the opposite sex that is this overpowering because it actually demands true emotional connection where I have to step out of a perfectly safe establishment and put myself in danger of rejection. It's not even the rejection that scares me the most. It's the idea that he might just return my feelings. Of course, I thought that would be the end of me; that a certain glance or a gentle smile---a sweet acknowledgment of my supposedly unrequited love---would already be a mitigated disaster to me. I seek out the pleasure of pain in every endeavor and that is why the masochist is me is terrified that I might just find enjoyment in true happiness. I had pondered different scenarios so many times where he would feel the same way and he would want to ask me out on a date and we'd hold hands, and kiss and spent another day together doing the same thing again. I find it intriguing that my stomach feels twisted and weird when I think about fluffy stuff like that. In a way I do want something so warm and reassuring but because I'm a grand saboteur of anything that would resemble a normal, healthy lifestyle, I digress and do the other way around, searching for things and events that would only bring me thrill and moments of introspection. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm truly ready to be with someone if all the aspects of my person will be given to scrutiny to this significant other; that he would have to rip into the several layers and taste the variety meats of my consciousness and other nonsensical idiosyncrasies. He would have to see me without the concealers and the costumes and the masks. He would have to demand something I have not learned to give as of yet, something I treasure so selfishly that I will never be forced to hand it to him in a silver platter. I have all the darkness of no morale or silver lining, and he's going to shine a light on these parts and I can't deal with that. The worst scenario would be if he feels the need to fix me, like I'm a damaged doll in need of repair, and it'll frustrate him that he can't, and then all of the efforts and struggles would be a waste, and he's gonna know that he shouldn't have bothered.
I hate being this self-conscious. The trouble with me is I'm so aware about being aware of myself all the time. What would I do if I fall in love again the second time around and it's with a guy this time? It's getting worse everyday because I'm feeling so close to J.E (and the feeling is starting to look mutual) but in the back of my mind, I still hold a candle for this other guy who is still with his neurotic girlfriend and obviously unhappy. I think I'll retreat once more if the stakes will continue to confront me like this. I'm not ready to share myself to another person who may or may not accept what I have to offer and withhold. And maybe that's the paradox of love and relationship. You can't know until you try. It's so wrong and unfair that I'm a lot braver now in my academic undertakings, as well as with my writing, and yet I'm still in square one when it comes to my relationships. I'm not sure what kind of test God is putting me through. Could He be any more vague? I haven't been sleeping well. My food cravings are a lot stronger. And I'm manic and depressed in varying levels that might need to be consulted on with a therapist again. This is such a tangled spectrum I can strangle on.
I used to imagine a soulmate, like all the silly girls do. I'm sure you had too. And as I grew older I realize relationships are hard work, right timing and compromises. And sooner the soulmate becomes more human, and I believe now that I have to get out my shell first and meet people because who knows, he/she would be my friend first until feelings would take their toll and happen. The journey, the destination---it doesn't fucking matter. Love's gonna come for my blood and it'll be swift and merciless.
I hate being this self-conscious. The trouble with me is I'm so aware about being aware of myself all the time. What would I do if I fall in love again the second time around and it's with a guy this time? It's getting worse everyday because I'm feeling so close to J.E (and the feeling is starting to look mutual) but in the back of my mind, I still hold a candle for this other guy who is still with his neurotic girlfriend and obviously unhappy. I think I'll retreat once more if the stakes will continue to confront me like this. I'm not ready to share myself to another person who may or may not accept what I have to offer and withhold. And maybe that's the paradox of love and relationship. You can't know until you try. It's so wrong and unfair that I'm a lot braver now in my academic undertakings, as well as with my writing, and yet I'm still in square one when it comes to my relationships. I'm not sure what kind of test God is putting me through. Could He be any more vague? I haven't been sleeping well. My food cravings are a lot stronger. And I'm manic and depressed in varying levels that might need to be consulted on with a therapist again. This is such a tangled spectrum I can strangle on.
I used to imagine a soulmate, like all the silly girls do. I'm sure you had too. And as I grew older I realize relationships are hard work, right timing and compromises. And sooner the soulmate becomes more human, and I believe now that I have to get out my shell first and meet people because who knows, he/she would be my friend first until feelings would take their toll and happen. The journey, the destination---it doesn't fucking matter. Love's gonna come for my blood and it'll be swift and merciless.