something about love
This, believe it or not, is not directed at a person. It’s not directed at you. Obviously, I’m writing this because of you. Maybe I’m coming off a little psychotic here, maybe I’m doing too much. That’s me and that’s who I am, sorry. This is more so directed at a thought process. It’s one I’ve had, it’s one I have, it’s one a lot of people I really care about have. It’s common, and I want to say something about it. The last time I wrote something like this about myself was after my attempt back in November, where I ended up writing a posthumous “Hey, it didn’t work, look at all of this extremely embarrassing information about myself!” suicide note, I guess? I don’t know. Anything to get my mind off how I feel, and I have no motivation for anything else right now.
Love is a grotesque animal. Love is insidious, and it tears you apart from the inside. Love is like a venom injected into your system that slowly kills you. Love hurts. It really does. I know this so, so intimately well. My relationships as a child were all with adults that were taking advantage of me purely for my age. They just wanted me because I was a kid, and even then, they wanted to cheat on me. Adults cheating on a 12 year old. In a sense, I struggle to interpret it. Was I “In a relationship”? Was that really love? Surely not. I was a victim. I continued to be a victim. But I was in love. In every relationship I was in after that, in some way, I was hurt a lot. Whether intentionally or unintentionally, it hurt me. My friend, who was with me being groomed by those same adults, decided to cheat on me with someone who was much older than them, or I. Visiting them on their 18th birthday just to fuck them, and then to go and fuck with someone very dear to me. I have my own feelings about this. They’re clearly not good ones. They’re actually pretty vitriolic and vile in ways that I don’t even know if other people would agree with. But they‘re all correct, as I tend to be. I have been hurt by love, a lot. My partner after that, fucked with the way that I interpreted love for what I can only assume is the rest of my life. That sounds awful, how could they! I’m so sorry! And so on and so forth. The thing is, that I don’t actually know how much I care about that. I loved her, and I was so happy to.
I would’ve done it again. I would, in a heartbeat, have done it again. I would have dated her again, if I were in that same situation and it were right now. She hurt me. She hurt me a lot. But I was in love, and I wanted to ride it out. I wanted to find out what would happen, and what it would be like. And frankly, it was great. I loved her and she loved me. We fell out of love. It took time, it took a long time, but eventually things changed between us. Neither of us hated each other, of course. She didn’t ruin my life. I didn’t ruin hers. I couldn’t imagine ever doing so. But things changed, and we drifted. And frankly, I think that’s fine. I have never been in a relationship that ended well and truly badly outside of the ones as a child.
I know how it feels to love.and I know that mine is a very unique form of it. I have borderline personality disorder. It’s hard for me to be normal. I stalk the people I have crushes on, I stalk the people I love. I think that’s something you’re not supposed to admit. But I just care so much. I’ll check what they’re doing. Even when I deactivate my social media, log out of discord, completely try to disappear because I feel like a freak, or that maybe these thoughts are overwhelming me, I can never shake the idea of “What if she’s not doing okay?” out of my head. What if I hurt her? What if someone else hurt her? What if she’s thinking about me? What if she isn’t? These are all unique forms of hurt. And they’re all love.
I know, I guess, that’s not exactly my problem. It’s not. I know reasonably, I should worry about myself, but there’s no chance in hell I could ever do that. It’s why I struggle to keep some people in my life. If they can’t reciprocate, if there’s a hang-up about it, then I just can’t do it, because I care too much. I’ve had people blocked for months and still checked up on them, even though in some weird way I hate them. I care too much. I have some sort of fucked savior complex for sure, but I also know that I can help people. And I so desperately want to, and I will do anything in my power to try. It hurts me. But I will continue to do it. Because I love everyone around me. I can only do so much for people as they would allow me, and listen to as much as they’ll part their lips to tell me. I guess, in a sense, I’m the perfect candidate for knight yuri.
But here’s the thing. Here’s what I’m trying to get at. Why continue to love if it hurts? If you interact with someone, and it ends up with a lack of reciprocation or hurt, why would you keep trying? And I’m no expert. Obviously. If I were an expert, maybe I wouldn’t be writing this. Maybe, the real way to achieve nirvana is to forego all worldly possessions and connections, never feel love again, and go live in the mountains. If they make me shave my head, I’m killing myself. That’s my one stipulation. And you know what? You could! That’s something you can do. I think they accept new monks sometimes. But is that the right decision to make? Is the hurt you avoid by not ever trying actually worth the tradeoff? I, personally, don’t believe so. I actually, really, really strongly don’t believe so. Closing your heart off to love is closing your heart off to the little moments that make it all worth it. Sure, you’ll never feel the sting of rejection again, of being hurt by the person you care for so much, you’ll never feel as worthless or rejected or neglected or hated or any of the other horrible things that can happen during a relationship.
But you’ll never get to truly enjoy smiling when the person you love is talking wholeheartedly about her interests. You’ll never get to love all of the little interactions you have together. You won’t be able to enjoy the little things you do together. You won’t be able to feel truly, truly, truly close to her. You’ll never get to sleep in the same bed, knowing you feel safe with someone who well and truly loves you for who you are, not what they want you to be. You’ll never be able to truly love the way your heart races when she says something so extremely sweet to you. You’ll never get to go around the city you live in with her, showing her the places you go every day, showing her the most intimate things you can about your life, getting to share everything you love with her, knowing she loves it, and you, taking pictures to print out and give to her to keep forever. I could never, ever, ever, forgo the little moments in exchange for never being hurt. Maybe love isn’t forever. Maybe people fall out of it. This is all true. But love is not about the macro of the situation. To make a comparison to wargames, love is about the individual conflicts. Whether or not you “win” is dependent on the individual events that get you there, and it’s based on how you view it. I don’t think I’ve lost any of my relationships to this day. I’ve been taken advantage of, I’ve been hurt, I’ve been tossed away, I’ve been treated like a freak, but in the end, you know, I think they were good. I think I was okay with them.
And sometimes, I think so strongly, wouldn’t things be easier if I just disappeared? If I was someone else, if I was able to split myself into two, maybe I could be someone that others would like. I think that if I were split in two, I would beat the shit out of the other me for even thinking that way. I’m so happy to be me. I don’t want to be someone else, I don’t want to change so strongly for others, I want to be able to be happy being myself, and that’s what I want for others around me too. I think it’s unfair the way the world has treated people like us, and I don’t ever want to perpetuate it. It’s not my place to do so, it’s not fair to do so. I think it’s easy to get yourself into a rut about it, to feel unlovable. It’s easy to let it permeate your entire being for weeks, months, years. But it’s not true. It’s not right. And it’s not the kind of thing you can let control you. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to you, and frankly, to share a bit of selfishness? It’s not fair to others. People love you. No matter who you are, no matter how you act, no matter your place in this life, people love you. Love comes in many forms, love can be shown in so many different ways, but love is always present and you shouldn’t reject it.
This one’s actually reused, sorry. It’s just very relevant and it’s one of my favourite songs. I’ve been told I’m doing too much. I probably am. I just have a lot to say and a lot to get off my chest. Always. I don’t really write this kind of thing often, or put my thoughts about it onto paper.
Love,
Maggie
P. S. If you didn't gather, try clicking on the “love"s.