I sat awake doing something or the first time in months. It felt so wrong but at the same time so liberating. Actually, it wasn’t liberating at all that is just what I tell myself so I feel just a little less pathetic. So I don’t feel like my life is just a waste of space.
I just cried, I fell apart in side piece by piece. Everything I had within me shattering again, and I knowing that I would spend the next few weeks picking up the pieces and gluing them together only to see the reaming cracks.
From the time we are children we see our parents happily in love, then they fight, buy a big house, fight some more, get a dog to make their children happy, but along with that happiness the only thing that comes is more fighting.
We do all of the fighting, all of the sadness, all of the ever looming despair that comes along with it – simply because it’s love. It’s what we all long for. It’s the thing that drives us every morning. It’s why we do our hair, or put on heels, or sit in bars for hours on end. Why else would you pay $14 dollars a shot when a bottle of cheap whisky will cost you seventeen at any drugstore?
We all have this earning need to be loved. I’m no different, its basically biology after all and who am I to argue with biology. It’s just the way things are.
I wake up every morning, choose an outfit that is bound to turn heads while still staying conservative. I do my hair and my makeup. The make up is meant to look natural but lets be honest with out a clay foundation my skin would never be so flawless. That’s the whole idea anyway, to be inconceivably and utterly flawless in the eyes of a perspective mate.
I don’t feel as if I am looking for love though. I watch those sappy movies and sure they make me cry and they make me feel like I need some kind of love in my life when in reality I have had plenty of people try to love me and I simply won’t let them, it’s against my nature.
I think the hardest thing I ever had to hear was when one of my high school teachers told me I was nothing more than a facade. Those words stuck inside my brain. Not because of the words them selves but because of how this teacher said it to me. He called me into one of his senior classes where I knew absolutely no one. He was looking to get something out of me, I don’t know what it was but there was a purpose for what he did to me.
“What this class doesn’t realize is that the beautiful girl sitting there is just a façade,” he said gesturing towards me as every single head in the class turned, “what you don’t realize is that she is actually quite brilliant yet she has an utter need for attention from all the boys in my class.”
He quite thoroughly embarrassed me if that was what he was planning on getting out of it. He won that round I suppose. How ever I may just have learned something about my self. No one in that class actually knew me so who were they to judge me? I didn’t care about their judgment. I cared more about what I wasn’t seeing in myself.
Was it true? Did I have a need for attention? I had never seen myself that way which is what made it all the more confusing. I had always tried to lay low, that never seemed to work very well because I had a silver tongue. I thought of my self as thinking and saying things in a stream of consciousness but never as someone who was seeking attention.
Was I so narcissistic I couldn’t even see it in my self? I wouldn’t say that experience made me particularly self-aware because I wasn’t aware of anything. In fact I lost a part of who I thought I was because I never saw my self that way yet I doubt most people do.
Every time you think someone is annoying or incompetent, they don’t think that way of themselves. That would just be utterly depressing. I didn’t know what to think now.
Scientist say that we see our selves as six times more attractive then we actually are. They say if we saw an exact clone of our selves chance are we wouldn’t even recognize it because of how distorted our view of our own self-image is. Could that be happening? Did I really just not recognize myself as an entire entity?
I felt like I didn’t look for attention from males because I didn’t need it. I wanted someone to love me because I wanted that classic love story, I want my life to be a Nicholas Sparks novel but it just doesn’t work that way. Every time I come across the smallest shard of significance in life I push it as far away as possible. It’s as if I just need everyone to hate me, I need their loathing to know they have no expectations for me.
I don’t want everyone to hate me, in fact I try to be quite personable, I walk into a room with the intention of putting a smile on everyone’s faces. I only want those closest to me to hate me. I want them to fall out of love with me since I’m incapable of loving them back.
I wish it were something you could treat with medication; they seem to be able to treat everything now a day with some medication. Women take medication for bipolar disorder and wonder why it doesn’t work—maybe because there is no medication for being a b****. Then we have ten year olds that are just little shits so we say hey lets give them some medication and see if they are doped up enough to give me some peace and quiet—that’s a newer one called ADHD.
There is no medication for being the way I am though. I’m destructive when it comes to anyone loving me. They don’t even need to say that they do, I can just feel when the moment has cone to cut the tether. I just can’t love. I’m not a sociopath, I can feel everything else, in a sense I can even feel love, just not for men. I could never cheat on a man I would feel too much guilt, I walk past a homeless person and give them money out of empathy, I feed the strays in my neighborhood out of compassion. I feel things; I feel love for my family, even for my own dog. I can feel love for my friends no matter the gender.
I don’t think I push away men out of fear; something just clicks inside of me when I can feel that they love me. A switch is turned off from all the caring and passion I feel for them and it becomes obsolete. So why would I need attention from men if I know it won’t go anywhere.
Losing your virginity is supposed to be special; you are supposed to be so utterly in love with that person that you want to give them your whole self. After that comes the emotionless and broken sex. I never had that tender caring for me when I lost mine. I lost it to a family friend that was a few years older and the military. The spring break before he got deployed to Iraq we did it.
It was the most cold-blooded thing I had ever done. I loved him dearly as a friend because that was all that I was capable of. He was afraid that if he took my virginity I would become attached to him when he left and I would be upset. It was quite the opposite; I wanted to sleep with him in the hopes that he would die. I was okay with the idea that he might never come home and that I would never have to see his face again. That was what in my eyes made him the perfect candidate.
It’s pretty sad that it was so methodical and planned out; that I was actually hoping that someone that I shared such an intimate thing with would die, and yet it was what gave me comfort at night.
I just couldn’t feel that level of intimacy with a person; I came to the conclusion that I was just simply broken. That’s what made wanting love so much harder, it was the fact that so many people were willing to give it to me and in just an instant I would change my mind about that. Within in seconds the lust I had felt for someone would disappear and their very sight would make me sick to my stomach.
I have wrapped my head around the fact that I just wasn’t destined for happiness.