I often, painfully wonder what it’s like to be beautiful. And I wonder, what beauty actually is. I wonder what it’s like to be loved by someone beautiful… even when I know it doesn’t matter…
This is a diary entry I wrote a year ago, or roundabouts. It is something I feel the need to share. Reading it back, well, it is enlightening to say the least. It shows how far I have come – something I honestly overlooked.
Why, please tell me? How can I be so lonely and still – most of the time – feel nothing. Everywhere I see it. In other people’s eyes, in their locked hands, their kisses. I don’t, I seemingly cannot know what that is like. There are things that take away the loneliness a little. But they also add new things to the table. Namely jealousy, regret, and admittedly, self-hatred. Yet, I can’t make it a game of the pros and cons, life isn’t that analytical. So, what do I do, alone, never been with anyone, scared to be with anyone. What if by any remote possibility I get close to someone. How will that work? If someone I like with all my heart asks me out for lunch or dinner – on a date! What do I do then? I can’t live up to the expectation that people set on me, the expectation that are set on every single person. I don’t want any of that, I don’t care about any of it! I want people to see me. To love what they see without wanting on top of that. Then again, isn’t that what every single person wants, to be loved unconditionally.
Am I even capable of being loved? What are the requirements, the prerequisites? If I look into somebody else’s eyes, and see beauty on the inside – even if it may not be on the outside. If they look back what might they see in me? Someone devoid of so much that they aren’t recognisable. Someone so ambiguous and unexplainable that they want nothing to do with me. It’s not that I’m overly afraid of getting close to someone. It’s just that I wouldn’t know how to act, or what I should do. What happens in a situation where I like them, but that feeling is not reciprocated, or even the other way around? In a way all off this seems meaningless because I can never see myself even entering a situation even remotely close to something like that.
So, that’s it. My mind-set from a year ago. Pretty rough.
I’m not saying that too many things have changed. A lot of those things still remain in place. Of course, more than I would like – far more. But I am working on them. And that is a change, the biggest change thatt can happen. No longer am I utterly hopeless. No longer is the future so dark I cannot see it.
I like to be funny. Or… at least I like to think I’m sometimes funny.
Humour is a big part of my life. It always has been. Two of my favourite films are Shaun of The Dead, and Zombieland. To myself, they are utterly hilarious. To other people I know, (yes Mother, you!) not so much. And of course, I find this to be complete madness!
I’m sometimes (often) told I’m hard-edged, or that I am overly sarcastic in my ways. And sure, I can be sarcastic… maybe a little too much on a bad day. Though, I do try to keep a lid on it for the most part.
I love to humour myself… This is another thing that the people around me seem to find somewhat intrusive, even degenerate. I don’t know why? Things I find intrinsically funny seem to float over the heads of others. It can be anything, an image, while I’m musing, even something I don’t understand myself. It is almost as though I have to see the world in a humourous manner as a matter of survival; to make light of a bad situation by seeing a laughable side, even if the situation itself is anything but funny. I suppose this could be seen as a coping or defense strategy that I have developed over the years, and maybe it is, but maybe it isn’t.
Maybe this is just another side-effect of depression/anxiety, I don’t know. Maybe it’s something more deep-rooted. And yet, I’m not inclined to see this as a problem at all.
I like to laugh. I like to smile – surely there doesn’t have to be a standard origin of these.
Whatever the reason, and whatever the cause. THIS is me. I am who I am – hard-edged or not. Inevitably people will dislike me. Everyone has to accept this in their lives. But hopefully there will also be people who feel the opposite way too, even if it is a minority.
Maybe they might even appreciate my humour.
I suppose, (if I can say this without sounding narcissistic) I live a somewhat philosophical life – constantly looking for reason, be that in my own actions or on a general scale. And in
So… is there any of you out there with any experience in philosophy, who can give an interested newcomer like myself an accessible place to start?
I look back.
It’s never intentional.
Nothing but pain follows.
It’s something I have no power over.
No, I lack the power.
I feel the past, bititng me.
Tainting the present, the future.
Thinking back, I’ve changed so little.
Yet, everything is different.
I look back… for something.
I’ve written something about love before. Although, it wasn’t specific to love. Not in the true sense.
I like to rant about things. Sure, maybe people find me slightly opinionated and hard-edged. Yet, I prefer this to having no opinion at all, and that seems to be how many people live their lives.
Love – I don’t how I feel about it. Or if I should feel anything concrete at all.
It seems to be a mysterious enigma that people construct their lives around, that people base their decisions on. Yet, can any one person really explain what it is and what it actually means? Maybe in a subjective manner they can. Love… it’s a all-encompassing term to bundle together all those indescribable and irrational feelings we have. Feelings that fit into no other category, things that cannot be explained using any other word
Love… everyone wants it. It is a universal desire.
I’m not sure I can believe in it though. Believe in love at first sight, love as a concept in the first place… Maybe it’s because of the lack of control I hold over it. I cannot decide when or how it manifests, directed towards whom. I cannot stop nor halt its progress, its recession. Maybe I fear it completely. Maybe I fear what might happen if it ever comes tumbling down after so much time, after so much personal investment. I fear what that would do to me, my mindset.
I feel scared when I see love, and realise what I truly feel is jealousy in return. Love is something I’ve never had. I don’t think I’ve ever even come close. And sometimes, because of this, I become depressed in my inability to create the closeness required, the friendship that must come before.
I wish for change, and yet the change never comes.
Love… it’s jealousy, desire, need, selfishness, exitement, hope, disapointment… it’s not me.
Trust, it comes by harder than most things.
Who can I trust? Who can I not? What level of trust is there? What if that trust is broken?
These are the questions that run, pile through my mind when I think of opening up, letting myself be really seen by a person. Granted, there aren’t many people in my life – my family, and a couple of old school friends. These are the only people I have to trust. The only people who I could ever trust. Well, that isn’t wholly true, there is one person I trust impeccably, but I have never seen their face, nor heard their voice. Still, they are very dear to me.
Anyhow… trust. Why does it take so much, such a great deal of effort?
I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I knew I could trust every person I met, if I knew there would be no judgement, no apprehensiveness in my abilities, or anger in the lack of. What kind of utopia would this be?
But we exist in reality.
I want to be free of all that burdens me, I want to be transparent in the world, for people to see me for what I really am. Most of all I want to trust myself to not fall apart, to not be perpetually on the edges of danger, to know and to trust that I will be able to pull through the burdens, the things that afflict me. And I want others to trust this too. Trust that I am capable, so that I can trust in them, in their support and withstanding of me.
Trust… where does it begin and end?