Fuck Empathy – When It’s About Loving You, I’m Fucking Selfish

Humility.

A word that speaks in volumes to me.

I always felt as if there are two sides to me – one is the one that is full of hope of happiness, that is filled with kindness and compassion, that is always after creating happiness, contributing the same to another despite how small it is. While the other is this bitter person, one that is filled with so much of sadness, of despair, of pain, of regret and of self-loathing.

Often, the fact that I still want to be with the one that I love, the fact that need for her simply resonates deep inside, makes me feel as if I am humiliating myself.

Imagine, constantly being told that you are unwanted, you wouldn’t be loved in return, that your presence does nothing but harm – imagine being told that your love isn’t right, it isn’t true, it isn’t ‘enough’, that you are not doing enough – even though in your mind, you’re doing all that you can to lift yourself up, so that you can lead a happy life with the one you love. Imagine all this being said/directed to you and even with all that hatred and dislike you can feel directed at you, you still chase after that person – shamelessly.

Imagine, wanting to love that person, selfishly wanting to love that person, wanting, needing love and acceptance in return from that person yet every single time you try to do something – write to them, call them, try to meet them, you feel like you’re annoying them, wasting their time, troubling them, guilt-tripping them in some ways as well. Imagine, how everything you do, even though it has nothing to do with them, but every single time you want to do something important in your life, you want to tell them, you wish for them to be there. And then there’s that constant nagging worry in you – if they’re fine, if they’re healthy, if they’re happy, if they’re safe – what?

This entire thing is going on in your mind and your heart – it just can’t take it. It just wants to stop beating for a while – it just wants to stop feeling for a while because the love and need you have for this person is just too much – too much to be contained in such a little space. And everyone around you sees you as if you’ve lost your mind, everyone around you says you’re obsessive, everyone around you says that you’re the example of an unhealthy love and you wonder, you just wonder if they’re speaking the truth – that if you were less in all that, if you could turn down the notch of your craziness a little, maybe, just maybe she’d love you. If you stopped writing, stopped having all these fantasies, if you just could fucking stop dreaming and actually fucking live like how most people out there are – you know, actually partake in that fucking rat race that you fucking despise, maybe, just fucking maybe she’d love you back.

Maybe she’d come back, maybe she’d see you, maybe she’d wanna be with you..

Maybe….

But then you’re gay.. and she’s straight.. at least that’s what you think she is..

Are you fucking out of your mind – loving a straight girl?

Why did you sign up for something so ludicrous? Why did you self-sabotage yourself – why couldn’t you love your own kind?

Because – I looked at her, as an eight-year-old and all I could think was is how beautiful her smile was.

Because – I sat in front of her, as a nine-year-old, one day in my school’s hall and while I walked up to the stage and got that award that I wasn’t even interested in, no one smiled at me or even talked to me, no one besides her – in that three seconds that our eyes met, she gave me the brightest smile that I’ve ever received in that bleak childhood of mine up to that moment and whispered a soft “Congratulations” as I sat down.

Because – we were ‘colleagues’ when we were ten – prefects on duty together and finally became friends. We made up games as we were often alone during our time of duty – she struck up a conversation with me and we just became friends. And I knew – I knew the danger, I knew that she knew nothing about the things in my mind, in my heart yet I still couldn’t stop myself from wanting to be friends. How could I?

Because as an eleven-year-old, falling in love with her as swiftly and as deeply as her smiles were, nothing seemed impossible then. The softness of her being, her everything was simply irresistible then. She was my best friend; I was in love with my best friend.

Even though as a twelve-year-old, having been rejected, I had to say goodbye to both – my only best friend, and my only love, I knew the only way to move on was to seal these memories, and so I did. Completely hiding them in the darkness, sealing them shut, my memories of my childhood, the feelings and love I had for her, were left to die, to not see daylight once again.

Until she came back and unsealed them.

Fuck you, stupid heart.. if only you had shut up.. at least we’d still be friends..

I don’t know – if she liked me, if she was just being kind. She was such you see – I was already weird to begin with, and the subtle bullying that happened didn’t help – the fact that I never talked about it to anyone didn’t helped. Even though I had a few good friends of my own from back then, she was my centre – I know it now just as I knew it then.

I don’t know if she’s straight, if there were love. She was in a difficult place and well, I was difficult enough without getting my heartstrings all tangled up and knotted. I fell on her feet as swiftly as the trees falling to the shouts of ‘TIMBER!’ and yet even then I was blinded by my own feelings.

Love – I’m an embarrassment to it – feeling too much yet not knowing the taste of it in return is dangerous as well as when all you know is the taste of giving, and not the taste of receiving, you come to a point where you realise that you’re empty.. You’ve been emptied out, so much that everyone sucked you dry and left you hanging and so you’re left with all those feelings but nothing to give anymore and then you become this pitiful human being but you’re just that – an empty vessel that meant nothing anymore for you have outgrown your usefulness.

Crawl back to that hole you came out from and die, you asshole.

Did I mention that self – loathing was a scary kind of sickness as well? One that I know so well, akin to the back of my hands?

Which is why I sometimes feel as if I’m humiliating myself – I am selling myself, heck I’m giving myself for free to a person who wants nothing to do with me. That makes things even worse in my mind – my love means nothing to my lover even though I want nothing in return – even though I’m willing to take all that she’s willing to toss to me, she still wouldn’t.

I don’t think I can sink any lower than where I’m standing.

Pain – nothing prepared me for this.

I had an accident once, flew at least six feet up into the air and fell at the side of the road – it didn’t hurt like this.

While working at my parents’ place, I was knocked down by someone. I was holding a pair of scissors – it sliced me from my lips to just below my eyes. It didn’t hurt this way.

While playing for my handball team, I dived to save a penalty and hit my head solidly onto the left goalpost – I saw stars for a moment and had a massive bruise for a week. That definitely didn’t hurt this way.

Nothing came close to this aching mess of bleeding pain that is still beating and breaking everything inside of me even after more than a year.

Humility.

I’m not modest, humble, or submissive.

I am however, lacking in pride.

I am however, unashamed, unabashed to still love you this way.

If I were to bleed, then bleed I will.

I can’t stop feeling for you – even if you’d never turn back and look at me.

I love you.

And you know what – I can’t continue thinking about how you’d see me, think of me if you ever find out about all these things that I write. Yeah, you’d probably look down on me, you’d probably think I’m weak. You’d probably not think I’m weak, you probably have no time to even think of me or I might not exist in your life anymore – I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t control the way you look and think and feel about me, just like how you can’t control my feelings towards you.

I might have fallen for you as an eleven-year-old – but it was that smile from that eight-year-old that hooked me in. I’ve been yours since then..

This is who I am. All fucked-up and messed up. Ready to blow.

Fuck empathy – when it’s about loving you, I’m fucking selfish and self-centred. And I won’t change a fucking thing about that. Because this is how I love…

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