I’m beginning to think there might be some merit to taking things personally. Being emotionally unflappable might seem like an advantage in most situations, but it can make it harder to see reality. Just because something doesn’t hurt your feelings in the moment, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s okay. And sometimes, if you aren’t paying attention to yourself, that hurt just gets delayed until you emerge from the haze—until you have no other choice but to notice.
Sometimes, something you brushed off with a deftly concealed eyeroll months ago returns to mind and fills your veins with a righteous burst of rage. Sometimes, the perplexing disagreements resurface and you realize what you dismissed as a difference in perspective was actually thinly veiled scorn. Sometimes, every complaint, every little critique and command, every visible tune-out or dismissal you had ignored all rise from the grave to swarm around you like a horde of locusts and eat you away down to the bone.
Sometimes, when you have the time and space to think about it, a great weight settles across your chest and you think to yourself, I am so tired of loving alone. So sick of one-sided bullshit. You think, I just want to be loved for who I am. Can’t I just be loved for who I am?
I pause my walk to stand on the corner and stare into the sky, my mind buzzing louder than the summer evening. I am so tired of loving alone, so sick of one-sided bullshit. I can’t continue to be blinded by my own heart into thinking any form of affection or consideration is the same as being loved back. I just want to be loved for who I am. Can’t I just be loved for who I am?
I stare off into the setting sun and one thought runs endless circles around my mind like a bug in a jar; How can I fall in love again without going blind?