I just want to say "I love you" and hear it said back to me.
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@imemyctk
I just want to say "I love you" and hear it said back to me.
People are vultures that feed off of your happiness and when there's nothing more to take, they leave your broken body to decay by itself But because you're still alive, you manage to put yourself back together, hoping that the vultures, your friends, wouldn't do that to you again Sure as day, once you're back to happiness, you can bet the vultures will be back and there will be nobody to put you back together again except for yourself.
What do you do when nobody understands you?
Probably a common problem for all of us out there. But if there are so many of us, why are we all so lonely? Why do people appreciate me for who I am not? Why can't they understand how sad I am?
Heartbroken
I always thought a boy would break my heart.
But I’ve sat through so many tears in my life, sitting on the floor near my bed, not even having enough strength get on it--and I realize that I’ve been heartbroken so many times in my life. Boys had nothing to do with it. Love, on the other hand, did.
I always imagined my heart as a pure, strong presence, and maybe it still is, but now I wonder how much scarring it has. I feel like no matter how badly I get hurt it never scars, and that makes it worse because each heartbreak is a brand new wound that I wasn’t prepared for.
Will it ever stop hurting? Do I ever want it to stop hurting?
It’s just a pain I need to ride out. There’s no quick way to fix a heartbreak. It needs time. It hurts so much with unspoken promises and unfulfilled fantasies, but with time they’ll all disappear. Hopefully. And I’ll love again. Inevitably. Because I never run out of love, and my heart is always there to be broken.
Another Korean blog. I’m gonna try to do a lot more voice blogs.
My voice blogs are back.
A lot of other types of blogs might not be. Probably because I have a physical journal now, and I’m trying to get used to the fact that nobody will ever read what I write. Because until now, I’ve always written my blogs with a certain audience in mind. It’s freeing and frustrating at the same time.
By the way, this voice blog is in Spanish.
Place For My Thoughts
I keep forgetting about this blog more and more. Does that mean I’m adjusting to life better? Probably not. It means I’m running a study abroad blog on top of all my social media and also have a physical journal at the moment. I’m also kind of in Spain so not too much time for Tumblr.
I still get sad though. I still have problems. And I still get really happy too. I hate that. I feel like most of the times I get sad, the reason is because I couldn’t be happy. Maybe that’s an obvious statement. I’m not sure anymore.
It’s like doing ecstasy your first time and get the best high of your life. Then the following times it’s just trying to get back up there, but you ultimately never reach it and crash. Or maybe you do and then you spend the next few years trying to reach that again. I still remember the times when I was so carefree and happy, almost euphoric as if I’d taken some drug. That’s what makes daily life worse because I can’t be happy like that. I keep comparing.
But at least I’ve experienced happiness. And I know it’ll come around again, I just need to wait. It’s probably normal for me to feel all these kinds of feelings this semester abroad. After all, despite the leisurely lifestyle here, I’m sure I’m under a lot of subconscious stress.
It’s just a really weird time in my life right now.
Yes, Please
I just recently started reading (more like listening to the audiobook of) Amy Poehler's "Yes Please". I know her the most from Parks&Rec, which is my all-time favorite sitcom because it always inspires me. When I watch that show, I want to be a better friend, a better dreamer, a better person. And I think that's the magic of Amy Poehler. This book makes me feel exactly the same way. Whether I experienced the things she did or not, I can still take away so much from her experience, and then from mine. Through her realizations, I can make my own breakthroughs. And I've only read the first few chapters. Not even through half of the book yet. When it's all compiled in a nice book, it seems so easy to be a nice person. And regardless of how accurate the effort it takes to be a good person takes, if it feels easy then I'll try to do it. I've already began taking steps and making changes. Especially her chapter on apologies called out to me. I usually tend to avoid drama, but that doesn't mean I'm doing something right. I tend to ignore problems and diminish their importance. Amy wrote about bad apologies. Ones that took "facts" and how these events made me feel, what I did right, what they could have done. That's not an apology. And it made me realize something--when I said "sorry" before--I didn't really mean it. Every time I played out an aplogy it was full of spite, of what they did, and pointing out the things they did wrong. Because I felt like it was their fault. I was just being stubborn. Amy wrote this chapter because she ignored a letter from some people that were hurt by her comedy. She went around to everyone, showing this letter, telling them how ridiculous it was and defending her position. She refused to face it until years later. Sure, it wasn't really her fault and she had her points. This reminded me of myself so much. I went around with my problem, having people agree with me on how ridiculous the other person was being. I thought I was in the right all along. I hope it's not too little, too late. But I feel a sort of freedom on being able to confess what I've done wrong. It doesn't mean I'm forgiven or if I ever will be--but at least I owned up to it. Maybe one day I'll be able to tell Amy Poehler that her book helped me take action on my life. I know if I wrote a book, I'd love hearing about the difference it made, no matter how small.
Me Too, Apparently
I look back on all the dates I’ve been on and roll my eyes. The best dates I’ve ever been on was with a guy I never felt any romantic attraction for. It was great because he was thoughtful and he really liked me. But I could only think of him as a good friend and had to cut it off.
Every other date I’ve been on (and I’ve been on quite a few) were so terrible it’s hilarious. Some of it was my fault, some coincidences, but mostly it was the guy. I was starting to get discouraged, and I still kind of am. If I’ve met all these guys and I’ve liked 0% of them, what are the chances that I’ll ever like someone? Forget about falling in love.
And how many times have I blamed myself? Everyone else seemed to be dating and falling in love just fine. Maybe I was emotionally stunted without even realizing it. Maybe I was incapable of a thing called love. Maybe I had impossible standards. You’d be surprised how many guys fail the feminist/respect women test.
After all these failures I finally decided I needed to take some time off by myself. It was the perfect time for it too, since sophomore year was ending and I will be studying in Spain until December. I cut off all my will-they-won’t-they relationships, stopped flirting because I was lonely, and focused on myself. I found peace with the fact I may never find the right guy, and that I wouldn’t need to. After all, the only thing worse than being alone is to end up with a douchebag.
Then I went to work at a two week camp. It was a Computer Science related bootcamp for high schoolers, and it was one of the greatest experiences in my life (and possibly the best job I’ve ever had). I worked on a team of four Residential Advisers (basically counselors). One great, quirky girl from my school I became fast friends with. One talkative, gay want-to-be-rabbi from conservative Indiana. And our lead coordinator, a thirty five year old filmmaker and teacher at a private high school.
Now, I usually have a knack for crushing on people I don’t have a chance with. I mean, once I had a crush on a gay guy for Christ’s sake (in my defense my gaydar is horribly broken). Also I never act on these crushes because I know I will eventually get disenchanted and “lead them on” for nothing. Because I can’t genuinely like somebody, because I always end up finding their flaws and getting bored.
Now when I met and got to know our lead coordinator, I’ll call him P, I immediately knew this would be the kind of guy I’d secretly crush on. He was outgoing, super friendly to everyone, funny, and he made film which is always a plus for me. And as soon as I recognized this, I told myself “No.” I was supposed to be enjoying my time off from guys and unnecessary teenage angst (though I recently turned 20).
But I mean, this was camp. Camps are magical.
This is especially amazing since we were the “dream team”. Everyone at the main office immediately recognized this. The four of us fit together like we were destined to work together on this program. We weren’t just coworkers, we became friends after the first day.
And days on after that, we’d talk. And P and I would talk. I’d get to know him, and he was just so amazing. I’ve never met a guy like him before. Once I thought I had him figured out, but he would prove to be much deeper and complex than I had thought.
He would make corny jokes and laugh at sexual puns like some 14 year old that just found out about sex. But he would also handle problems with maturity and get sad and angry at the treatment of the cows at this one fresh-milk ice cream place we went to.
And he talked about his life from time to time. It was definitely interesting, and he’s been through quite a lot. He also talked about women a lot (and men once), but it was endlessly fascinating and just... different. I think this is the only guy I have ever met that I could tell was a feminist without him explicitly telling me so. He’s had lots of woman (which wasn’t surprising) but the way he talked about them with utter respect was surprising. He didn’t have subconscious misogyny but he didn’t put women on a pedestal either. This kind of conversation with any other guy would have made me feel uncomfortable. But with him, it was just a nice conversation in a safe space. (He also understood race issues which is another plus--but really it saddens me these are pluses and not givens.)
In the middle of the camp, for a day or two, I suddenly felt a crippling sense of loneliness and depression. This does happen to me once in a while, so it wasn’t too big of a deal. And I hide it well. But usually, a night of crying would be sufficient and I would be as good as new. That wasn’t the case this time. At random times in the day I would burst out into tears. I think the stress of the camp and staying awake working was finally getting to me. But there was also something else.
I tried to deny it, but I kept crying and there was no use. Even though I told myself “no” it didn’t work and I came to really like P. I’m sure the camp, the stress, the lack of sleep all heightened my emotions but it still stands that I have never cried about a guy before. I’ve never had such strong feelings towards any guy. It was a first and I realized I liked him. It was definitely more than a crush.
I would feel absolutely miserable but when he texted me or talked to me I would feel the best I have ever been. I realized this and knew I should tread carefully--but similar to your first time getting drunk, you don’t want to tread carefully. You want to fall face-first and get swept up in everything you’re feeling. Because what if I never feel anything like this again? It took so long for me to find this one feeling, I didn’t want to let it go.
I told myself that it’s better to have loved someone one-sided than not to have loved anyone at all. I wanted to feel the thing everyone else was so crazy about.
That night, or maybe another night, all our nights blend together, we stayed up talking as we usually do. I didn’t know how we felt about each other until this night, but it was so clear in a way it hadn’t been with all my other crushes. We never actually said it, but we spoke the same language. And we rested together on a pile of pillows until we got tired and went to sleep.
And it went from then on. We liked each other and we knew it, and it was the greatest feeling ever. We spent what time we could together. He took care of me on my lowest points as I did for him. The camp was hard but it was rewarding, more so because I met him.
We didn’t want to talk too much about the end, but we had to. I had to go back to NYC, just after a week of really being with him. And I would not see him again for more than four months while I go to Spain. Talk about the worst timing ever.
This is the first guy I ever fell for. Here is a guy that I could never stop talking to. A guy I think about as I go about my busy days, not only at 3 am on lonely nights. That was what I was looking for and I finally found it... and I had to let it go. With him, I suddenly realize that I may become the stereotypical lover I always made fun of. Waiting for his texts, wanting to see him, just to be with him alone...
We promised to keep in touch, to pick things up when I return. He said he might visit NYC before I go off to Spain. That would be nice, but for now I’ll focus on myself again. I’m not going to rely on dreams, but I’ll dream. I’ll have my fun in Spain and come back, hopefully, to him.
End of Sophomore Year
Here ends another year. Well, to be more specific, it ended a month ago.
Half of my college career is gone. I know how fast the next two years pass, the last two always does. I’ll have drastically changed by graduation but I won’t notice it. I’ll have experienced many new different things, but I won’t remember most of it. I’ll worry about money, I’ll worry about jobs. I won’t worry about grad school because I know I won’t be going, at least for now.
Wrapping up this year was bittersweet. Lots of things happened this year, some personal, some public.
I was full of hope at the end of my freshman year because unlike the freshman year of high school, I was well-adjusted in school. I made friends, I joined clubs, I networked, I got jobs, I put myself out there. I was hoping that there would be no repeat of my high school’s “sophomore slumps”. I was depressed and lonely and stressed out to the max. I took long naps and stayed awake crying at homework. It was a terrible year, and I didn’t want a repeat of that.
I was glad it wasn’t. I was disappointed that it was close enough.
I didn’t fall into depression (as badly as high school at least) and I kept myself on top of things. Most importantly though, I had the support of my wonderful friends and I think they were the ones who kept me sane throughout it all.
I did feel sad. Very sad, too frequently. And too stressed out. This was mainly in the first term, and I made sure to not make it bleed into the second. Because when I’m tired and sad and stressed, I tend to lash out on the people I love. I become cranky and make bitter comments just to start arguments. I’m glad my friends saw me through all that shit and still stayed by my side.
It wasn’t all great with friends though. I made one wonderful friend the first semester. We would talk so much, we did everything together. I liked hanging out with him. But I don’t think he was able to handle me when I was stressed out. Maybe it was the way I debated with him too fiercely. Maybe he didn’t like the way my neighbor got angry at our conversation noise. Maybe I accidentally attacked him personally, instead of keeping our arguments level-headed. Maybe he just got bored with me. Maybe it was because we were in the same class and I’d ask him for help. Maybe it was because I rejected his help. Maybe he got fed up with me.
But he stopped coming over my room. And we stopped talking. He didn’t make an effort, but I was determined to repair relationships the second term. I was a shitty person the first term and I knew it. So I reached out to him, and we talk. But we don’t talk. No more of those “interesting questions” and “profound debates” that he loved so much. We say hi. We catch up with small talk. Maybe make a joke or two, we’re very friendly. But he always finds an excuse when I ask him to hang out. We’re no longer close, and even though he was a new friend, I miss him.
Of course, there were good things this year too. I’ve gotten closer to my group of college friends, and made some new acquaintances. I’ve gotten better and more comfortable at my job. I did things I’m proud of, like organizing a regional event and finishing the core curriculums for both my majors.
I also went apple picking for the first time. Salem on Halloween for the first time. Dimsum for the first time. Thrift shop for the first time. Interstellar with college friends. Shopped thousands of dollars in snacks at Costco. Took a class with friends for the first time since middle school. Had my first lead role on the stage. Had six snow days. Played D&D for the first time. Got drunk on my friend’s birthday. Dated bunch of guys. Realized that I need to be alone for a while, without guys.
It was a bittersweet year, but I think I’ll look back on it fondly in the future. We tend to look to our pasts with rose-tinted glasses.
Open Book, Closed Heart
I always describe myself as an open book, and it’s true enough.
I love opening up to new people. If they ask me a question, no matter how personal, I will answer it fully (as long as it’s respectful). I have no trouble recounting my embarrassing childhood stories or sharing my personal philosophies of the world with anyone. I talk to anybody who would be willing to listen.
Then I realized, and I think I always knew this, that I am deathly afraid of intimacy. That’s why I like to imitate a sense of intimacy by oversharing.
And this fact is something that I do not share. It’s too personal, too true, and I’d like to say that it’s just me being paranoid, delusional, attention-seeking--I want this fact to be false. But I think if I was being really honest with myself, I know that I am pretty fucked up emotionally.
There’s no concrete reason for this, at least not that I can remember. I think it might just be the way I was born. I had crippling shyness when I was little, and that war was won only by the time I graduated high school. It took painstakingly long but I was able to get over most of it. So perhaps I can have hope to get over this problem, whatever this is. Maybe one day I won’t be as afraid of intimate, emotional connections.
But as of right now, I have trouble. I think it’s mainly for romantic relationships. I have no problem showing affection for my close friends. I used to, but not anymore (so I guess I’m already part way there). I say “I love you” to my family and friends. I hug them all the time and no longer fear being completely alone with another person without any distractions. I’m even getting better at the whole eye contact business.
Romantic relationships are another can of worms though. I can flirt just fine. I love it, actually. I thrive on it. I love the feeling that the other person is showing affection towards me. It’s cute how subtle we try to be without it being subtle at all. Flirting is a game, and it’s one that I enjoy.
Physical relationships are okay. I love cuddling and making out, although I’ve found that no guy that I’ve ever met wants only that. Sex is a bit scarier but I’m alright with that too. It’s only a bit daunting because I’m not too experienced and I want the other person to like what I’m doing. But emotionally, I have no problems with it.
Then there are emotional relationships. When you’re supposed to like the other person. I find that too difficult. I have crushes, or even people I’m mildly interested in. I flirt with them, and maybe they start flirting back. Then they start taking things too far. They ask me on a date. They talk about the future. They do something insignificant, anything I don’t like, and I get scared off.
Commitment is one of the main reasons I get scared off. It’s just everything about it. The fact that you can’t escape it, the feeling of owing something to the other person, the fact that I know that I will eventually break it off and the whole relationship would have meant nothing in the end. And still, as I give these reasons, I know there’s no main reason. I’m just scared.
I always fantasize about intimacy. I want to feel at home next to somebody. But being the me that I am right now, it seems impossible. That kind of relationship needs time, work and love. How would I feel love when fear overwhelms me? Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to fall in love with anyone so far.
I look back now and realize I’ve broken off every single relationship that I’ve been in. It’s not because I’m some amazing person everyone wants to be with. It’s because I cannot handle something that seems even slightly serious. The longer I stay in a relationship, the more unnerved that I get. The relationship would give me so much stress. I become almost paranoid, as if there was a hitman after me. I flinch every time somebody messages me, afraid that it might be my boyfriend. What would he want to say? What kind of lies must I make up to get out of hanging out with him? What should I say to keep up the pretense of being on the same page with him emotionally? What if I’m not what he wanted me to be, if I say something wrong, if I get this relationship thing wrong....
When the stress gets too much, I panic and break up. I close myself off from all romantic advances. I tell myself I don’t need a man, I am independent, I am doing this because I am strong and do not rely on other people. I give myself reasons why the relationship was not working out, that it was perfectly justified for me to have broken up. I don’t give a shit about being single because I don’t need anyone else, and that part is true. I don’t need another person. But I would like one.
Eventually it cycles back to the confidence phase. I start opening up a little bit, and become interested in guys again. I flirt, I hang out with them, I do all that fun stuff. Then the panic slowly rises and I go back to being closed off. It gets emotionally draining and it feels like more effort than I ever bargained for.
I need to get better at this. I want to get better at this. Now that I’ve identified the problem, maybe I’ll start going about solving it. I still feel an unreasonable amount of stress and panic when I think about this. But maybe if I launch myself into it head-first, I can get somewhere.
So there’s this girl I know...
She’s not a super close friend, but I’ve known her for more than a year now. We used to get dinner together almost every night, and she was “part of the gang”. She’s petite and really pretty and adorable. She doesn’t speak much, but is one of the most extroverted people I know. She has such a bright personality, you just want to keep her under your wing forever.
She’s just as naive as she looks--which is almost like a middle schooler. But we all love that about her. At the beginning of this school year, I remember she was telling us about this boy she liked. She was in another relationship at the time, but the boyfriend wasn’t such a caring guy. He didn’t seem to care whether she existed or not. Naturally, we all rooted for her to break up and go with the other guy.
So she does that. She breaks up and has this childish phase where she just avoided her ex at all costs. Sure, it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but that’s just her. Then she hung out with the guy she liked all the time. Like I said, she’s not shy at all. She made it pretty clear, without seeming to utter a single word.
I don’t know the guy well. My friends know him better, but not by much. We joke about how when we say something to him, his reaction will be that he will take out his earphones and go: “What?” He’s that kind of guy. Aloof, clueless, but not a bad dude. He always speaks gently and I always found his shy smiles and whispers at my friend to be reassuring that he’d treat her right. He always listened to what she had to say. He never pushed for her to talk more, as some other people did. When they finally started going out, I was so happy for her.
I thought, that is the perfect college couple. The puppy love you see in movies. It was perfect and I was happy that my friends were happy.
Then we started seeing less and less of my friend. She spent a lot of her time with her boyfriend. We joked that she basically lived at his dorm. It was cute, but the rest of us (even though we never said it aloud) felt a bit like we were kicked to the curb. But we understood. She had fallen hard for him.
But my friend conveyed to us, in her special way of not being offensive at all, that she couldn’t really hang out with us anymore. She had other friends, other obligations, etc. It’s been months since it has been like that. But what it finally came down to was that her boyfriend got jealous of her hanging around one of our friends, who is the only guy in our usual group of friends.
I found this a little bit understandable. She and the guy friend seems to have a close relationship. I only know because I was upset once when he had told her everything about me and him (we had a thing, confessed to each other, never went out, blah blah blah). I mean, I was jealous of their relationship too.
And so life goes on. I’d see her and say hi once in a while. And finally today, we had a lot of down time together because we were preparing for a show (cultural night sort of thing).
Since she doesn’t speak much, it’s always a bit hard to be alone with her. We did a lot of small talk... then I asked how things were with her boyfriend. I expected a usual answer, maybe I’d just coo over how perfect their relationship with. But she hesitates. Then she asks, “Do you think he’s a nice guy?”
I say, sure, but I don’t actually know him. He seems quiet and gentle. My friend then tells me how they fight sometimes, and how he gets angry. I really couldn’t imagine him being angry, but it was understandable. Couples fight.
I ask her, “Do you still like him?” To which she answers, “I like him when he’s normal.”
Big red flags and alarms start going off in my head. I dig deeper.
She tells me about how he gets jealous of, not just that one guy friend, but all guys in general. He didn’t like her talking to other guys. At all. He didn’t like what she was wearing that day, a slight v-neck. He would get angry at her at random times for talking to guys or just being jealous and angry in general. What shocked me the most was a text conversation she had screenshotted. It’s not verbatim but it went something like this:
(she has asked him to wake her up from a nap at 2)
Him: wake up
Him: slut
Her: (sleepy emoticon--she probably didn’t know how else to respond)
Him: stop being to fucking lazy
Him: you bitch
And that’s it.
Are you as outraged as I am right now?!?! I had to read this a couple of times to make sure he didn’t make some terrible typo. The gentle guy I knew? I have never heard him curse before in my life. Nobody in the fucking world can talk to my friend that way. I don’t care if you’re joking. She, nor any of my friends, nor I, will be talked to in that way. This seemed to be one of the worse things he did, but not a one-time deal.
She told me how they had fought just recently too. They keep breaking up and getting back together. She tells me he never does this in public, only when they’re alone. He curses at her like this. And if she tries to leave, he stops her. She says this in a way to convey that it means he loves her--and he doesn’t want her to go. But to me, physically holding her back from leaving doesn’t sound too nice.
She tells me about his “normal” phase, which she likes. It’s the guy she used to know. He’s cute, he’s caring, etc. It feels like she has hope that he could be like that more. But she also says that she understands when he gets angry, he can’t control it. He gets irrational because he’s insecure. Like that’s a good excuse to be a terrible human being.
Then she shows me their most recent text conversation, which she says (with a bit of a bitter edge) is his normal phase. It goes something like:
Him: (lovely emoticon) did you let any guys talk to you today?
Her: (emoticon) no
Him: (emoticon) good (emoticon) make sure to not talk to them
As if emoticons can hide douchebaggery.
I’m just so angry. I don’t know what to do. Of course I told her to consider dumping him, but I didn’t tell her in any strict way. She trusted me enough to tell me, I don’t want to lash out at her like it was her fault. She said she has only told one other person (who has also suggested the dumping route).
How the fuck does he think he has a right to not only degrade another human being but control their freedom to do whatever the fuck they want? If he was my boyfriend I would have dumped his sorry ass a long time ago. There are not enough insults in this world to describe him. I think I’m even more angry because he is so fucking nice and is such a soft-spoken pushover in public life. My friend has dubbed him as the “Fake Gentleman”.
The worst part is about the frequent breaking up and getting back together. That’ll make it harder for them to break up for good. And they need to.
I am so worried about my friend. I want to help her. But also I do have faith that she can hold her own. She seems like a strong person, although she may look like bunnies and rainbows on the outside. I just hope that she realizes, before it’s too late, that she’s not gonna be able to “change him for the better”. He’s only going to get worse because that’s how abusive relationships work.
My 2014
This year seemed like it was so short but it was also impossibly long... It can be divided up into three parts: Freshman Second Term, Summer, Sophomore First Term.
I've done so many things I can't even begin to count all of it. But I'll try:
Got a job at the Helpdesk.
Been called an optimist many times.
Made new friends.
Had adventures with new friends; karaoke, apple picking, etc.
Started playing Dungeons & Dragons.
Worked at a bakery and regretted it.
Went on a shopping spree.
Got a lead role in an important play.
Did a bunch of adult-like things when I feel like a 5 year old inside.
Had a huge personality drawback this recent term as well as another bout of depression (real or imagined).
A never-ending cycle of motivation, inspiration and depression, hopelessness.
Realized boys suck and I'm done with casual encounters.
Need to be a better friend.
Need to be a better daughter.
Need to be a better person.
It's so hard to improve, but I guess there's no way but up. Wish me luck in this coming year!
Five Days of Christmas Challenge
I want to do something this year and I love challenges... also I thought of this idea late so five days it is.
1. Family
Take a picture with your family. Your mom&dad, your grandparents, your spouse, your siblings or that roommate you lived with for the last ten years--whoever's your family. Explain why you appreciate each one.
2. Friends
Make a collage or photoshop all your friends together. Share with all your friends.
3. Town
Take a trip down memory lane. Literally. Take pictures or jot down notes--or just bring yourself. What's special about every nook and cranny?
4. Childhood
Write about your childhood holidays. What were the winters like? How are they different now?
5. Future
Who will you be celebrating Christmas/holidays with ten years from now? Make a video letter to your future self. Don't simply hope. Assume your dreams would definitely have panned out by then. You can't wait to be there soon enough.
Too Weak, Too Strong, or Just Indifferent?
When I interact with people, or more specifically guys I'm attracted to, I'm very carefree about anything and everything. "I really like you", cool. "I don't see you that way", no problem. "Who are you and why are you talking to me", good bye.
I don't want to believe that I'm actually that indifferent, but that it's just some sort of unconscious defense mechanism. When relationships don't work out, I honestly don't care. And more often than not, I actually want relationships to end. Even more often, I don't even feel like getting into one to begin with.
The usual way these things work out is that I start liking a guy. If he doesn't show interest back, then I give up. But if he does, I pursue it for a while. And "a while" isn't months or even weeks. Probably just days or couple of weeks. This is inversely proportional to the amount of times he talks to me. The more I see him, the more I try to pick out things I don't like. It's unconscious. Then I start getting bored. I become uninterested to the point that they become just another responsibility I need to deal with, like homework. Then I slowly just push them away.
I like to believe that I'm a deeply loving person. I have strong bonds with all my close friends and I love them very much. It's certainly possible for me to never get bored with somebody, no matter how many or for how long we talk. I always dream about the guy who could be my friend first, boyfriend second. I can see myself loving someone so deeply--it feels like a very possible thing for me to do. And I can get hurt too--goes on to show that I do have emotions.
Then am I just pretending to be strong? Pretending not to care? Maybe. I try not to get too hung up on things that didn't work out. I say fuck the haters and ignore all the bad things. I don't let anything bother me, especially people. You don't like me? I don't really care. I'd rather not talk to you anyway. It's too much effort to make people like me, and there's no point when I already have friends. I don't need everyone in the world to love me.
Then there are the times... when I really don't care. When I really get bored. It's not "I'm not gonna care because I don't want to get hurt". It's more of a "I sincerely don't give a fuck". And that scares me most of all.
I want to care. I want to be weak. I want to be strong enough that I can show how weak I really am. But what if I'm not actually capable of caring for somebody so deeply? Not that I choose not to, but actually cannot?
I have never had a relationship with a guy where I genuinely thought "I really like him". Not once. I've gone through a fair amount of guys too. The closest I've come is "well, I guess I'm not too bored". The longest I've liked a guy, not accounting for crushes, would be a week at maximum. I'm not even looking for fireworks. I'm just looking for somebody I want the mere company of. But after a short time, it always comes to a point where I don't even want to exchange a single word with them anymore. I don't want to see their face, hear their voice or even see a notification from them. It feels like an obligation.
I thought maybe it was a commitment problem. It's not. Non-committal things end even quicker. I'm still hoping it's a lack of decent guys problem. But it's increasingly hard to believe. If there were better guys out there, I'd probably have ran into at least one already.
So now, I'm scared, and I'm wondering: Am I the problem? Can I never care about anyone?
Really random thing, but I remember when I first encountered the idea of homosexuality. It was from a Korean variety show that does shorts on interesting people/events/etc (called Surprise) and the episode is from 2005. It was on Alan Turing and it was really horribly dramatized (there was this whole love triangle going on, when, oh surprise he's jealous of the girl--oh, and nothing about government persecution), and told rumors like it was true (yeah he totally poisoned himself like snow white and Apple totally got their logo from that).
The show used two words that I've never heard of before (in Korean): Gay and Homosexual. "Homosexual" is still a long and complicated sounding word in Korean, so I couldn't remember it after the show was over. But I remembered the shorter word, "Gay". After the show, I asked my mom what the longer word meant. She told me something along the lines of "it's not a word for kids" and "you don't have to know". Which of course make a kid more curious. I expected the word to mean something sexual (not quite so literally though).
So I searched up the word "gay" on my mom's electronic dictionary. The answers were really confusing because it was entirely irrelevant to the story (the dictionary defined "gay" only as "happy"). So I just let it be and tried to forget about it.
It seemed like such a forbidden word back then, like "sex" was a forbidden word. But if my mom had just told me that it was just a word for people that liked the same gender, I wouldn't have thought it was such a secret word (also I would have been slightly disappointed that it wasn't more sexual and scandalous). When I saw the whole bit with Alan Turing crushing on his best friend, I really didn't think anything of it. If it was a big deal, I certainly would have remembered my confusion, like I do with this word. But the definition, the content itself wasn't important. I just thought it was another unfulfilled, sad love story.
I wonder what my mom would do now if she had a little kid asking her? I should ask her this when I go back for Thanksgiving. I know for sure she is much more open minded now (thanks to yours truly), but would she still think it's an unsuitable subject for kids? I guess we'll find out in a week.