Friday, July 13, 2012

Love: How I view it, want it, desire it, crave it, and how I'm letting it destroy me.


Me: i just feel--- disgusted with myself
Her: why?
Me: For believing in love. For putting so many girls up on a throne they didn't deserve to be on at all. For feeling like I NEED to be in a relationship so that... maybe if i throw love at every single girl, even if they don't deserve it, one might throw even just a scrap of love back and I would hold onto that scrap and that girl because I feel like I need to be loved.

Her: Are you referring to me?

Me: For the part when I throw love at you, yes
I did love you for a bit
But even afterwards I kept throwing love at you



I always have wanted someone to love me, whether it was an intimate relationship, friendship, or something completely different. I have always thrown myself at girls. I have felt attraction to them for laughing at my jokes, and subsequently spent the rest of the day thinking about how I could woo her and then marry her. I know that sounds pathetic, but that's because it is.

I have always craved attention. It makes me feel loved, even if just for a second. I believe it is part of why I am so loud and "out there". I tell jokes to shield people from seeing the real me; the boy that has been hurt and abandoned so many times.

The first words I could say were the names of the "Thomas the Tank Engine" characters. I kid you not. I always sat down in front of the TV for hours rewatching the same tape, pretending that Thomas really was my friend and that the Island of Sodor was real and I could go there with enough asking my parents. He was there for me when my family wasn't. And that was a lot from what I remember.

Whenever I like a certain TV show or video game, or something of that nature, I delve into it. I explore it like it was real. I fantasize and dream about it, most likely because it could never leave me. If I needed it to be there, it wouldn't hold its finger up while on the phone and then forget to talk to me while I cried in my room. It wouldn't tell me it was so excited to see me and then never show up. It wouldn't ignore me whenever I tried to talk to it. No, it would comfort me while I cried when trapped in the basement. It would stand up to my brother and sister when they were ganging up on me. It would have told me that it was okay to feel sad sometimes, and that I wasn't a freak. Whether it was pretending that I was in Harry Potter, or dreaming about being able to waterbend, or playing Pokemon, I was sucked into another world that helped me escape my own.

The first girl that I had to get over has the privilege of having the majority of the early poems on here written about her-- CJ. I fell in "love" with her in 9th grade Civics. She was an angel. So beautiful, so gentle, so heavenly. For the next year, as I experimented with drinking to try to help my depression, I kept on trying to impress her; baking cakes for our lunch table every chance I got. It didn't work. In the fall of 11th grade, I decided to be proactive about my approach to her. I went to the homecoming dance with the goal of walking up to her, asking her to a slow dance, and telling her my true feelings. At the dance, I scanned the crowd during one of the grinding songs, and there she was-- dancing with someone who would become her boyfriend. My stomach dropped to my knees, then back up to my throat as I threw up in my mouth and then dropped right back down to my knees. I was devastated and as I just about had the thought of them out of my mind, and my stomach almost back to its proper place, I made the mistake of looking up. They were in the same spot-- back to front, like they were about 45 minutes ago. My stomach started dropping again, but I swallowed the acidic juices as they rose up my throat. With my throat stinging, and my eyes watering, I resigned myself to dancing with my back to the group for the rest of the night.

A week later they started dating.

I wouldn't have treated her right though. I am too much of a spineless fuckwad to. Even though if I had her, she would have been the best thing to have ever happen to me (well, that's what it seemed like at the time.) But now, when I see her and him together, it makes me so happy that I was able to let go. I was able to let go and let her be so happy and realize that she and I probably wouldn't have been that great together.


Since I don't love myself, I use that lack of love and a normal love on every girl I know so that there would be a chance that even one of those girls might love me just a little bit, which would probably never be enough for me. 

I don't believe in love anymore, however.

3 comments:

  1. well I love you timmy. And that's real. No homo.

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  2. Is it alright if I love you a little homo?

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  3. Timmy, your writin is very Charlie-sque here and I applaud you for that. However, I feel like you are feeling the bad things in life a little too strongly right now and I urge you to check out a book; it's called This is How by Augusten Burroughs. You may know Burroughs of his Running with Scissors fame. Anyway, this book has helped me open my eyes to a lot, especially matters dealing with love. He also writes like Chobsky but he's a little rougher around the edges.
    I hope this helps, and if not please now there will always be people who love you in the world. Even if it does not seem like it at the moment.


    A friend

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