[[[i think i’ve finally spotted the big disconnect; and i suppose i should have really put my finger on it earlier. thinking back i think i did but in a much less meaningful way.
the intimacy of knowing someone scares you. and even more, the intimacy of them knowing you. i know understand why you can’t pinpoint what feelings you do hold for me: they change. they change from platonic in almost all cases to sexual / romantic when it’s superficial or leading to bed. it thus makes complete sense that i feel the opposite – a constant romantic feeling between us, because i feel that for you.
i don’t think you’ve ever had the privilege of really knowing and loving someone. knowing what’s wrong with them and still loving them. being inconvenienced by them but still adoring them.
i remember telling you once, in a fit of frustration, that the reason you liked maintaining the long distance relationship halfway across the world was the lack of responsibility and intimacy – you don’t really know or owe her anything, and she doesn’t really know or owe you anything. that’s your safety blanket. no accountability or risk of the person discovering what’s wrong with you.
from the beginning, things have been different between us. we’ve gotten along so well on both a platonic and a romantic level, because i force you out of that comfort zone. probably most days, i test a previous boundary you’ve placed with people.
it’s obviously not as simple as one specific factor that has caused the confusion between us – but i believe this plays a big role in your ability to determine your feelings for me. i’m not always an easy person to have in your life; but the benefits you reap are significantly greater than the effort. i think you know that, quite well, and that’s why we always end up back at the same place.
i can’t force you to be alright with intimacy. i’ve been trying for the past few years and it’s actually led to imagined intimacy with others (i’m still getting over the admission of puerile thoughts of somebody else). as i’ve said in the past – in return for my patience and vulnerability i fear i get punished for creaking open the door while not being allowed to venture inside once there.
i think at the very worst, i will serve as an important life lesson to you, and be responsible for a lot of personal growth you end up choosing to go through.
i, selfishly, hope you do it while still in my company so i don’t have to let you go.
while i may not completely trust you again yet, i’ve made the decision to try. to decide to still be here.
i was once at the ‘love’ part of the title of this blog – holding so many feelings for you that i didn’t really need to hope. that no matter what, i would find a way through it for our sakes.
i’m not there anymore. which is probably a much, much, healthier mindset for both of us. i’m at the hoping stage. i’m hoping that you can meet me in a new middle place that works for both of us; and if not, then that’s that.]]]
i don’t like that this is written as almost a direct letter to a.b.s., because well this is my journaling blog and should be about me. i would add some well-crafted line about being interwoven and thus unable to separate my feelings about him from myself – but that’s not really true. i choose to do this. i choose to care about him. i choose to trust him. [i really am trying, but will need more than just a dream-like week and a few phone calls to believe that there is a change.]
i saw a post a few days ago:
no, we’re not soulmates. this is not divine intervention. and this is most certainly not chance. i willed this. i knit the threads of fate myself until they spelled your name. i love you intentinally. i love you with every bit of conscience i was born with.
i do not relate to the intensity of the words. but i do undertand them.
after a number (three to be exact) of meaningful, long-term relationships that all ended in a similar way, the lesson i’ve truly learn from them is that love isn’t the only thing you need.
feelings for a person do not sustain a relationship, it merely begins one.
you have to choose the person you’re with: even if it’s not always convenient, even if it’s sometimes hard, even if you don’t always want to – you must. (at least, when it comes to me.)
it’s easy to like somebody for a few weeks or months, but staying with them, consistently, is a far greater commitment. having other options but choosing one person is what matters.
feelings must be present. an absolute non-negotiable.
i often doubt whether or not i actually had feelings or loved the people i ended up leaving; perhaps as my own safety mechanism; – the truth is that i did. the cruel reality is that i loved these men, and still made the decision to leave them. the even worse actuality is that they all loved me to; but it wasn’t enough.
by the end they loved me the way you love your childhood toy that you know isn’t going anywhere off your shelf in your bedroom. the way you love the disc you’ve kept of your favourite video game on a console that you got rid of years ago. the way you have arguments with your parents as a teenager knowing that they’ll forgive you for anything you do because they love you. – i had become such a given that they forgot that they were supposed to appreciate it.
l.c. was fifteen with no real concept of love. and while he really tried at times, i was a fifteen year old who really wanted to feel loved by someone who didn’t even know where to start. he played on my insecurities when it pleased him, changing his opinion based on who he was taking to (as all teenagers are prone to doing). i hope he’s well.
p.n. was twenty falling for a wild and free version of me that never truly existed. being vulnerable with him felt like admitting that i would not be fit to be his wife and mother his children, something i desperately craved. my unceremonious disposal was uncalled for, and yet entirely avoidable if he had taken my pleas of real intimacy seriously. more than anything, i craved him, with all of his flaws and issues; but i could not bring myself to believe he truly wanted me. i don’t know if it ever felt like he did really know me. we both yearned for an ideal life together without thinking about whether or not it could actually work, hoping our feelings would take us there (they didn’t). i don’t know if i miss him or simply the version of myself i was with him – perhaps both. i wish him the utmost happiness and love possible.
j.d. was twenty two and never really wanted to love me. from the beginning, i should’ve seen the warning signs. i should’ve taken the words of a damaged man to heart instead of swearing i could fix him. he loved me for what i could offer him: an escape from his reality. despite knowing me most intimately, and even at times adoring me for it, to do it consistently ended up being impossible. putting in the effort, for my sake, did not seem doable. it was a mistake from top to bottom; but a really good lesson (that i don’t seem to have fully learnt) that not all battles are worth fighting. sometimes you can’t help someone.
i contemplate sometimes about how i’ll reflect on a.b.s. after all is said and done and the dust settles. i used to be obsessed with how people perceived me after the fact, hoping above all that it was positive and i was missed; because it must be nice to be missed. that’s no longer the case. no one leaves a situation unscattered. no one walks away unharmed.
i think willing to risk the pain for somebody is what love is supposed to be about.
to love for the hope of it all 
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