The moments I am least ashamed of are undoubtedly the ones where I appeared to lose my mind because those are the moments where I reeked of the exact same sincerity as the drunkest man at a party.
As a woman who has that thing where she is constantly in thought, I like to base my truths on philosophical teachings because it’s not so much about the final answer but rather about the path that gets me there no matter how annoying or bumpy the road. It’s not so much about me acting out but about what drove me there. So, it’s not so much about falling in love but who or what drove me to the point.
Plato states, “human behavior flows from three main sources: desire, emotion and knowledge”. Human behavior then; is the result of a craving or longing for something to unfold, irrational or insensible feelings that are out of one’s control and facts, information and a practical understanding of the issue one is dealing with – in other words, receipts. So, when the issue was love, I was not a woman who fell in love based off her own imagination. I was a woman who fell in love based off the desire to one day experience love, the uncontainable feelings that consumed me upon falling into this love and the fact that I didn’t have to script the scene. This man actually told me, in his own words, from his own lips that he loved me and I believed him.
As a postmodern woman, I am prone to rebelling when someone or something attempts to put my thoughts, feelings or being in any kind of cage. When somebody attempts to label me as crazy for justifiably reacting to their wrongdoing I am already a split second ahead of losing my balance. Because our generation often lacks accountability for their actions, women tend to become the bearers of what Amy Winehouse would repeatedly call fuckery on one of my favorite records by her.
“What kind of fuckery is this?
You made me miss the Slick Rick gig.
You thought I didn’t love you when I did.
Can’t believe you played me out like that
No you ain’t worth guest list,
Plus one of all them girls you kiss”
This woman, is quite literally questioning what level of fuckery she is being forced to deal with as though she is expected to remain cordial while her lover has made her miss something that is important to her. She is expected to remain calm while her love for him is downplayed. She seems to be in actual shock about the fact that he has disappointed and hurt her so grandly as though she was a game. This woman is so fed up she is admitted he was not worth being in her inner circle because he is as good as the girls he has betrayed her with. This woman will be the one labeled crazy at the end of the day because of her choice to confront the situation based off those three main sources that human behavior flows from.
True love, I believe, goes back to the philosophy that explains love as a sort of friendship between two people. Once it is given a chance, it completely depends on reciprocity to survive. The return of sentiments is what strengthens and develops the bond even further.
I’d like to think of a love professed that was not sincere as one of the greatest injustices because no matter how long you continue to walk the road once it’s over, the pain may disappear but the scar remains as vivid as it was on the day you got it. I can testify that although it still hurts as bad as a knife wound even though I have no idea what it actually feels like to be stabbed, I don’t cry over him anymore.
I can’t cry over him anymore because in the moments where I lost my mind as a result of what he did to me and how he hurt me, I let go of all the feelings he did not deserve from me and returned them to myself. I’m doing the things that I love and love myself for because he did not love. I am writing this right now because he did not me and I will go on to produce things I cannot even comprehend at this stage because he did not love me. It is in the moments such these that you, my dear, should feel extremely proud to be a postmodern madwoman who stands up for herself.
There are few things more intriguing.