Andrew Richard @andrewwrichard - Tumblr Blog

I want so desperately to be effortless. I want to not try. I want to not care how my hair falls or how my fingers look in photos, but that will never be me. I want so badly to not live so far in my head that I forget to live— forget to love. But the truth is sometimes I feel like I’ve forgotten how to love. I dated someone in the beginning of 2020 before the world turned to madness, but before that it had been 4 years. 4 years without that familiar feeling starting again. And I miss it. The initial interest. The spark—not knowing whether it’s a good thing or a warning sign. It’s been so long since I’ve slept in someone else’s bed—spent time getting to know the curves of their body, if they snore, or what they look like in the morning. I feel as though I’ve forgotten the twinge of fear when I know it’ll be awhile before I see them again. And though I understand where my choices led me wrong in the past I still can’t help but wish things could have been different. But they’re not. I can accept that. But on nights like tonight I long for something that’s not there. And I can’t decide if that makes me a romantic or someone so mundane that all they strive for is to be loved. Right now I just miss that feeling. But I don’t even put myself out there anymore. I’m focused. Responsible. I don’t have the time or the patience. Tho true it’s also partially a lie because I would make time for the right person. But everyone wants to play games and even though I tell myself I leave at the first sign of a game I know that’s not true—almost like I want to break my own heart. But this heart is fragile now. It can’t handle the epic heartbreaks like those of years past. Intact, I told my therapist once that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to survive that again. And that’s what scares me. All those years I proved to myself I couldn’t trust my own instincts while trying to create more than one happily ever after. And yet I so desperately long for what I’ve given up on. I just wonder if one day I’ll wake up happy for what I prayed for or sad I stood in my own way—too afraid because the very life force of my love was stolen by those that could never love me.

makeuphall

It’s mind blowing to me how much finishing a movie or a show can affect me. All evening I’ve been in such a deep mood. It’s something that only happens on occasion something deeply touches me—remind me of my humanity, my longing for connection, and the fact that I have the ability to feel as deeply as I do. It’s cliche but I watched love pan out in front of me and I cried—not just because it was sweet but because I still catch myself wondering if that will ever be me. Five years ago I handed someone my power and then almost destroyed me. I don’t tell anyone how much I’m still picking up the pieces. But I am… because five years feels more like five days. The wounds still feel fresh. I’ve healed intellectually but not emotionally. I’m aware of the why, how, and what happened to me. I understand why I was drawn to someone that could have completely eradicated my humanity. I’ve done my best on educating myself because it felt important, but it didn’t heal the wound like I thought it would. All of this thought spiral—from a movie that wrapped up a show that only had 2 seasons. But it made me feel. It made me reflect. It made me long for intimacy that I have long forgotten because I’ve closed myself off. I have sex but there’s no connection. I tried to date a year ago and my neurosis appeared—enveloping me in such a fog I could barely see what was right in front of me. It’s wild to me just how much one movie can send me down this road—envisioning what I would say to various men in my life who probably also have no idea that their heartbreak still has the ability to cross my mind. I can’t help but feel pathetic but really these moments just shaped me. I was a romantic. I delved deep. I wanted so badly to love someone that I was blind— blind to who they were but that I also secretly wanted someone to save me. So much so that I chose the monsters in disguise that just mirrored to me what I was told my whole life… you’re worthless, unwanted, unloveable. Sometimes I blame myself for letting them break my heart as some part of me with most almost always knew I couldn’t fit a square into a circle. Maybe I just learned to gaslight myself—to make myself believe what I wanted as a way of dissociation. I wanted so badly to believe I was good and worthy of good with an inner core that screamed the exact opposite. And yet here I am still trying to pick up those pieces again. Jagged, little things that somehow slip from my grasp because I often can’t grasp how to handle my emotions. I’m not out of control or crazy, but they feel all encompassing. I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe ego? After all.. the ego never wants to die.

andrewwrichard

“They say the greatest thing you’ll learn is to love and be loved in return, but you might learn more about yourself when it’s unrequited.”

— Andrew Kendall, Unrequited: Things I Learned from Trying to Love the Wrong People.

andrewwrichard

Unrequited means so much to me. It is seven years of terrible experiences put into art. In a way it is abuse transformed and hopelessness made hopeful—with an intent to help unravel the idea that mistreatment somehow equates to love. These four pictures are a small sneak peak. Unrequited is available here:

https://www.amazon.com/Unrequited-Things-Learned-Trying-People/dp/0692047514/

andrewwrichard

“I’ve always believed in love. I grew up strongly believing in the kind of love that could conquer anything, but as an adult my views on love have shifted because of what it’s put me through. Don’t fret though. I’m not a cynic when it comes to love—just more realistic. My mind isn’t clouded with an image of a quest filled with dragons and everything in between. Rather, my outlook on love has been shaped with a new knowledge that only comes with self-awareness. And within that knowledge is power, because with it I’ve discovered I never really knew what love is.” - Unrequited.