Journal Time!

click! | April 5, 2023

I can't say for certain if figuring out whom all those sad love songs were written about is a blessing or a curse. I finally found someone that I want, someone that I feel could really make me happy, at least for a while. He doesn't want me, though. Well, it's not that exactly; it's just that someone else got to him first. And it hurts.

I know what unconditional love is. I can't say that I truly love him if I can't keep loving him despite him not loving me back. It's just... I have that selfish desire, you know? It's terrible and awkward and nauseating. I just want what feels good, rather than what is truly noble or reasonable.

And I know I will find someone else like him. Hell, maybe they'd even like me back. It's just... for now, I have him. I want him. It can't work, It can't be, but I want him. It's as the sad love songs say: he's with another, the true depths of his heart restricted to me.

I never like being on the outside. As of recent I've felt more and more a feeling that I'm missing out. Serendipity had treated me nicely for nearly all my life, but these past few have been... testing. I tried to make moves so that I could stop feeling so alone, but I just can't control other people. They have themselves and everyone else to look after. Who really has time for me?

Does anyone love me like I love them? I can't say I believe so. I wonder if they appreciate me. Would they notice if I were to go away?

I don't want to go away. I want to be here. I want to make them happy. But I hamper myself with self-inflictions. I hurt myself inside for caring so much for people that don't share that. I dare to love anyways, and I get burned over and over... mostly by me. Just please won't someone reassure me, in a way that I can't ignore as a response I goaded, a polite platitude? Just please won't someone care about me as much as I care...

But I must love anyways. It's who I am, and I will always fight for the happiness of the people I care about. I can't abandon them by letting go of myself. I have to justify my being here somehow. I need to prove that I'm not the monster I fear I have become.

I wish I could tell someone everything. Perhaps they would be able to help me out of this cesspool I wallow in.

Was it something I said

That made you anxious, yeah, it made you upset

Made you call me back at 3 a.m.

- Was It Something I Said, MyKey