When I was younger I couldn’t wait to fall in love.
I would watch other couples, and I couldn’t begin to wrap my mind around the concept of it, but I just knew that I wanted to love someone that way. I knew what love was, I loved my family first and my friends, but I didn’t know that person. And so I wished and hoped that I could learn to love someone like that because it seemed so sacred and so special.
I’d watch couples around me and secretly wonder what they were talking about, if they were planning on getting dinner later, or if they lived together and talking about what they’d make; images of two people sitting in a living room together laying on the couch, sleepily saying they should go to bed because they both need to work the next morning.
But I suppose I cursed myself wishing like this, because as I’ve grown up, so has my heart; and I’ve learned how the world works.
Those couples were never real on the other side of my rose-colored glasses. While I got my wish, I also realized I have so much love to give that I feel like I’ll scare people away with it, and so I shut it away deep where nobody can find it, making it impossible for anyone to love me in return.
I’m not saying that I don’t love my family and my friends, but even some days I think it’s a struggle for them to understand me and love the angry, weepy, nervous parts of me. And I think at times, they don’t realize how much I love them in return for trying to understand all the darker corners of me. When it comes to relationships though, I want so much to find that person. I want that so much that it comes out in the worst ways possible, in starting fights, or anxiety that they’ll leave when there is no reason for them to. In the grand scheme of things, I make it downright frustrating for significant others to even like me at times.
I’ve grown up seeing that the world is afraid of too much emotion, and so this knowledge has manifested itself in all the wrong ways. As I’ve dated people, I’ve learned the hard way that the less texts you send, the more of a response you get.
I have learned that you have a better chance with less of an answer to “What’re you doing tonight?” We crave mystery, we crave the chase, and I was unfortunately born an open book with transparent lines and word “obvious” stamped on the cover. I don’t know how to lead people on or be casual.
It hurts too much to pretend not to like someone when they’re all you can think about. I feel that I was born wearing a heart on my sleeve, only for it to be permanently tattooed there early in life; and all I can do now is hide it to try and fit in.
Nobody can fall in love with me because I cannot be like everyone and pretend that this world’s idea of “love” is okay.
I want love, the kind where it hurts to breathe because you love the person so much.
The kind of love where even seeing them for an hour a week is better than nothing, or just hearing their voice on the phone can make you smile. But everyone is too busy holding off on replying to that text they got because ten minutes is about how long you should wait to answer, everyone is too busy thinking of interesting plans to fake having when someone asks them what they’re doing later…everyone is too busy with pretending to be busy; and that’s just something I can’t accept.
So it’s easier for me, I’ve realized, to make sure nobody can possibly even come near me, because I’m sick of people running off at the first real sign of someone genuine.