It occurred to me that sometimes being loved isn't enough. We have to be loved the way we want... or we may as well not be loved at all.
Last year, two different men told me they loved me within the space of a week. It didn't feel empowering or electric. I certainly didn't feel loved. And you know what, I wasn't loved. We have to be our own benchmarks. If you don't love me the way I love you then your love is nothing. I'm the only constant in this series of equations... and if I don't find my equal then what are you making of me? Nothing, nonsense, a scholars' smudged scribble.
A loved me... but A also ordered my food for me, chastised my flighty nature and gave long speeches on Homeric idioms. He loved me the most when I was mute; a blank and magical whitewashed wall that he could project his own character upon... magnified. He bought me things, he protected me, he was as proud of me as I was embarrassed by him. He loved me like a possession. When I received a phone call, he would demand to know who from, in his rages he would cast wide nets of aspersion on my sexual morality. He had carved a niche for me and I had better slot into it.
B loved me... but B was also jobless, broke and high most of the time. B didn't really know me... he thought I awesome and super cool. He also fell out of love with me pretty quickly when I showed him how fearsome and super callous I could be. From the moment he said "I love you" I needed to show him that he didn't. He desired me, he knew I was a good prospect on paper, he saw the way his friends looked at me and he was carried away on waves of infatuation, lost in his own moment. He sensed the spinning possibilities for adventure and chose to call it love.
M says she loves D... D says she's never loved him. To my outside eye I think she does... in her own convicted, particular way.. but that's the not way he wants to be loved... so is he loved? No. He isn't. Love is not what you think you give. There is no reality here; reality itself being that rare word that should never exist outside inverted commas. Love is what you are perceived to give. My interpretation of your love is the only thing that can validate it... and if I feel like you do not love me, if your 'love' is outside of my criterion then I cannot call it such. You do not love me.
Last year, two different men told me they loved me within the space of a week. It didn't feel empowering or electric. I certainly didn't feel loved. And you know what, I wasn't loved. We have to be our own benchmarks. If you don't love me the way I love you then your love is nothing. I'm the only constant in this series of equations... and if I don't find my equal then what are you making of me? Nothing, nonsense, a scholars' smudged scribble.
A loved me... but A also ordered my food for me, chastised my flighty nature and gave long speeches on Homeric idioms. He loved me the most when I was mute; a blank and magical whitewashed wall that he could project his own character upon... magnified. He bought me things, he protected me, he was as proud of me as I was embarrassed by him. He loved me like a possession. When I received a phone call, he would demand to know who from, in his rages he would cast wide nets of aspersion on my sexual morality. He had carved a niche for me and I had better slot into it.
B loved me... but B was also jobless, broke and high most of the time. B didn't really know me... he thought I awesome and super cool. He also fell out of love with me pretty quickly when I showed him how fearsome and super callous I could be. From the moment he said "I love you" I needed to show him that he didn't. He desired me, he knew I was a good prospect on paper, he saw the way his friends looked at me and he was carried away on waves of infatuation, lost in his own moment. He sensed the spinning possibilities for adventure and chose to call it love.
M says she loves D... D says she's never loved him. To my outside eye I think she does... in her own convicted, particular way.. but that's the not way he wants to be loved... so is he loved? No. He isn't. Love is not what you think you give. There is no reality here; reality itself being that rare word that should never exist outside inverted commas. Love is what you are perceived to give. My interpretation of your love is the only thing that can validate it... and if I feel like you do not love me, if your 'love' is outside of my criterion then I cannot call it such. You do not love me.
1 comment:
i love you dude xang
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