As time marches forward, I feel the opportunity for partnership slipping away. If there is any one glaring truth about my past relationships is that none of them were ever all that interested in me, or lost interest after a period of time had gone by. I am also a rarely constant person, which can be misinterpreted at so many intervals it boggles the mind with possibilities. I look at myself now, as I am, and I see someone who is too unique to be related-to or loved. I am a compilation of irritating flaws and brilliant insights colliding explosively on volatile ground. I have had only a handful of people in my world who have any hope of truly understanding me, and none of them are all that interested in me. Its intoxicating to have someone in your world who is excited about you. It’s a thrill to feel elated with relevance, and have the concerns of your mind inherited, embraced and expanded by another. Such a thing is worth waiting a lifetime to have just a glimpse at, and I fear, something I will never know.
I have old, unrequited love in my heart that lays there on the shore like a decaying trout. I’m not sure what to do with this, but all looking at it does is make me want to reach out to my exes which I am certain would be a bad thing inevitably. That’s not the answer, I tell myself. Why? Because they left you, and largely because you weren’t interesting enough to keep them around. When they got to know you, they didn’t like what they saw. Am I destined to repeat a similar pattern the more I try to find someone? I feel like there is no one alive who would willingly inherit my burdens for the chance at something transcendent. I do believe in love, very strongly as a matter of fact. I believed that love was something that wasn’t just abandoned when it was no longer interesting. Love is worth fighting for. I loved each and every one of my exes with passion, but that wasn’t enough to keep them when things were less than ideal.
No blame, but definitely a case study in what the future will likely hold. In the profession I am headed into, there are possibilities that I could meet someone in a potentially impossible context. I really think there is a glimmer of hope still, but not something I will be sticking my nose into for more sniffs. I feel thrown out enough times to be okay with being trash. Knowing what you know about me, I’m clearly not a hot commodity. Maybe one day I will be. I don’t think I ever need to be, but I do sincerely miss that feeling of having someone who was excited about getting to know me. Being explored, exploring someone else in return. Swapping truths and secrets. Making love together for the first time. These moments are like images captured in frames, still, lifeless, but forever ensnared in a shining moment where things felt beyond this world.
It is a struggle, but I come here to cope. Knowing that you will probably never be loved again is a hard thing to deal with, and not at all certain (even if it feels otherwise). It is, nevertheless, a truth I am preparing for since the path to companionship has become long ago lost in the obfuscating shroud of perception. I have not enough desirable to outweigh the repulsive. It is reality I strive to change, which is clearly an exercise in futility. Stigmatized and appropriately relegated. I’m not in a great place mentally. I don’t feel good about myself as someone that someone else would ever want. Physically I’m about as repulsive as I’ve ever been in all my life. I’m headed downhill as of the end of this post.