It Hurts To Love You

I think one of the hardest concepts my mind tries countless times to wrap itself around, is how a person can love someone while at the same time treat them in a manner that appears as if they don’t think very much of them at all. It’s funny, when you think back on the days of grade school, when we were only  just kids. Even then we had the concept ingrained in our minds that if someone of the opposite sex was mean or “picked on” us, that it indicated they actually liked you… as in more than just a friend. We at first fight this idea. Logically, it made no sense to us. Because really, why if the person liked me, would they want to do or say anything to make me believe otherwise? Seems a bit counterproductive. Then when we grow up a bit, we begin to recognize the psychology in it all. We can narrow it all down to fear in some way, shape, or form. If a 12 year old boy doesn’t want a girl to know he likes her, it’s because he’s scared of what he feels because A, he doesn’t understand it. B, he doesn’t want his friends to make fun of him. Or, C. He’s scared to find out that she may not feel the same way. These don’t change all that much even as we get older, they just become a little more complicated and messy. And by a little, I mean a lot more. I try all the time to understand how my gut somehow believes that he cares about me more than any other girl, while at the same time can act as if I mean nothing in the world to him. I really don’t think any amount of psychology can help when it comes to him, not even from a professional standpoint. His issues run deeper than most, and I’ve come to the realization that you simply can’t help people that won’t do anything to help themselves. Unfortunately, I have a difficult time living by that. Because I have an impossible time accepting that nothing can be done to change a situation. I see the potential, I picture the reality, and I see how simple it all could be… and suddenly, I begin to feel the most frustration and angst that I have ever felt in my life. People love to dig themselves into holes, take the scenic route on issues that should be dealt with head on, and burn bridges that should have been aggressively protected. And they love to waste time, lots and lots of time. I find myself struck with a sensation of pure terror every time I remember how little of it we have. And that feeling is what motivates me not to waste a single moment of it. But sadly, I do. There are plenty of other productive and worthwhile experiences I could take part in, but I’d say I probably only put in about 30/40 percent worth of effort to partake in them. I feel guilty about this all the time, even sick. But even more than that, the one thing I hate wasting more than anything else, and never would if given the chance, would be making the most out of the time with the person I love. Every body has different ideas of what happiness is, and what it will take to achieve it. I know happiness is a condition and not a destination, which many confuse it for. Those people also full heartedly believe that one specific thing will get them there. I know better, but am still inclined to believe that having that one person by your side can give you all the strength and ability to face anything else life throws your way. But I just can’t seem to let the idea of him die; the fantasies or the realities. Because I know he can be more than  just a day dream. And I honestly don’t believe I would still feel the way I do after all this time if something inside of me didn’t think that was true. Five years of loving someone without anything in return, including mutual affection, is a long time. It’s a dark and lonely path that only becomes lighter during the far and few times he gives me hope. Unfortunately that hope always ends up being false… so why my rationale hasn’t overthrown my heart yet, I really don’t know. But a part of me deep down believes it’s because of that feeling I mentioned. The doubt is always there, and that’s because my trust in him is wearing thinner and thinner. It hurts to love him, but I go on doing it anyway.

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Valentine’s Day 2016

Rewinding back to a week ago today. You could say that I wasn’t entirely shocked that I would end up spending this day alone, again. For the fifth year in a row to be exact. But who’s counting? There was a moment where I thought things may have been different this time, but per the usual, that moment never lasts longer than the impending holiday I was ignorantly fantasizing about. I mean, I haven’t heard from him since Christmas, where he blew me off and never even gave me the supposed present he said got for me, despite the fact that I had already given him his. So why would I think he’d come around a month and some change later with any kind of gesture for another holiday? One focused on love and romance, no less. But somehow my mind is convinced that dreaming about the possibility of something amazing happening is a lot better than focusing on how little chance there is of it actually happening. Maybe it’s self sabotaging, but I think if I gave up all hope entirely, the result of that would be much more lethal. Regardless, the day wasn’t as horrible as it could have been. I actually got up at a decent hour, ran some errands, and then went to a tanning salon. The one close to where I live was having a promotion for a free week of tanning and I figured, “seven days won’t give me skin cancer”, so why not?! At least I’ll get some color and look a little less like Casper the Ghost. However, I probably should have put on some actual sunscreen instead of just the bronzing lotion they gave me because well, let’s just say I was looking pretty lobster-like by the time the session ended. Luckily that all went down the next day, minus my chest area and the back of my legs. I did end up waiting two days before going back to the salon, just to be safe. But anyway, I also ate the candy my mo7e6fac79bfb28286528e7e1f7ebc50dbm gave me. She always leaves something for my sister and I on holidays. For this one, it was a heart-shaped box of chocolates, a card, and heart-shaped balloon. I got some cleaning done as well. Overall, it was a decent day. Though now that I’ve replenished all those details, I can’t help but notice that I described what may be a decent day for any other day of the year… but not Valentine’s Day. Feeling a bit morbid right about now. BUT like I said, what can you do, right? It’s out of my control, just as plenty of other things are as well. Among which are a few that I just can’t seem to understand. Such as how easily people can treat other people as though they’re dispensable to them, like they mean nothing in the world… even when they mean everything. I opted not to go out on this day, despite the invitations I received. But the thing is, I’m not him. I can’t just distract myself with another person, friend or more. I could, but in all honesty the only reason I would be doing that would be for the purpose of making him jealous. It wouldn’t be for me. And really, that makes it rather pointless. Not to mention slightly pathetic. That’s why I stay home for the most part. I’ll go out and have a good time here and there sure, but I just can’t fool myself. I know too well that it mostly serves as a distraction from what is missing, or just a way of proving something to someone else. He on the other hand, clearly had no problem inviting someone to accompany him out that night. A “friend”, supposedly. But the deja vu was more than unsettling, and so was the feeling in my chest that lasted the rest of the night after discovering this fact via social media. I guess I should be thankful that most girls can’t help but document their every move, or else some things would remain hidden. That senseless dreaming I mentioned earlier, it really can be a blessing and a curse at times. I didn’t believe any of the romantic-prince-charming scenarios I pictured him doing would actually happen, but it’s just amazing how that realization wasn’t enough… it never is. Another Valentine’s Day  spent alone, and a front row seat to him spending it with someone else. I could have done the same, but I’m not mad that I decided not to. Like I said, it wouldn’t have proven anything .If the time comes where I have to accept that me and him are never going to happen, I’ll be ready to move on when I’m ready to. And I won’t be doing it out of spite, jealousy, or desperation. It will be for me. I only wish I could say with full confidence that I truly believe that will happen, but I guess we all face doubt that runs this deep at least once in our lives. Feeling that strongly for someone after all this time, sometimes it full heartedly makes me believe that those feelings will never truly go away. You may be able to hide them, or even forget about them for a while… even years. But somehow, the moment you see that person again, something happens. Something overwhelmingly familiar. Something consuming. There are few things that hold such power over us in this world, where we find ourselves losing our own self control and logic. And those are the most impossible things to leave behind… even when we really should. And that is because despite all the things it may not have been, the one thing it was, was real.

This Is Where I Begin

926b184180ac4dec751af577b62a48a1So here’s my problem. I can never just simply start something. Well, most things. There is one exception to that truth, but that’s a whole other story entirely. The thing is, I just can’t seem to get over this ridiculous notion that my mind created a long time ago which states that unless I’m positive that whatever it is I’m choosing to produce is absolutely flawless, that I can’t even consider beginning it until it is. But when you think about, that kind of thinking is pure lunacy. I mean, what is “perfect”, anyway? I’ve written stuff before that I thought at the time was alright, but not extraordinary. Then after a years time or so I come across it again after having forgotten all about it, and suddenly it reads so much bigger than before, almost as if it’s not your writing at all. I think sometimes people like me  who have the tendency to be overly critically of themselves have to take a step away from their work to truly see the greatness in it. I guess that can be said for anybody with a passion for something. We expect more from ourselves when it comes to the things we desire most. But at what point do we have to stop waiting for the time to be right, or for our words to be perfect? Perfection is not universally defined. What’s meaningless to one mind might be clarity to another, just what they needed to  hear; it’s all relative. I was scared to start this blog because I didn’t want to let myself down if I didn’t reach my full potential, which ultimately is the same thing as failing. I was scared of regretting words I can’t take back once they’re out, or realizing that I could have done better after the fact. I am constantly thinking about how I can be better, it’s who I am now. And I could give that thanks to other people, or unfortunate circumstances; but I believe that ultimately, we choose who we want to be. Yes, our hearts can being pretty hard wired from the beginning, but that doesn’t stop us from having the ability to grow beyond what we think we know at the time. Only you stop can stop yourself from trying. And in a world that is constantly doing everything in its power break you, even with all the best intentions, you just have to decide that you’re not going to let it. So this is my starting point, my first post. As of right now I’m settling fine with me, but I’m sure in a day or maybe even an hour or so that might change, but that’s okay. Because I started. It can only keep improving and growing from here. Some things aren’t as complicated as we want to make thing. Sometimes, all you have to do is finally show up.