And now I know the meaning of unrequited love.
Even for a person like me, who listens to Damien Rice to lift my spirits, what I feel right now is quite unique. Growing up I had my fair share of crushes and at that time I am sure I felt the desperation, the need to be noticed, the desire to be acknowledged, and yet somewhere within me there was always a sense of detachment. Like I always looked at the world including myself from a distance.
But the last few weeks I have gone from feeling ecstatic, to mildly annoyed, to downright crushed thinking that my feelings will never be returned, to finally desperately clutching at my inner protective layer of cold disengagement.
It is not easy for me to explain to people my brand of phobia. I loosely call it a phobia of commitment, but that is not truly what it is. I have always wanted to belong, just not at the cost of losing my self. I want everything, while not owning anything. And that is how I want to be accepted. I want to be the sore thumb, and I want you to love me for being the sore thumb. Maybe this is what is called being selfish, I don't really know.
Somehow it is equally difficult for me to explain what I feel about certain places. Places are like living and breathing personalities, which are sometimes split and contradictory like my own. And some of them tug at your heart and tangle your brain signals. This chemical imbalance is often described as love, but not the happy chirpy kind, it's the one with intense pain and anguish. The give-give type. The one which goes against reason, the one you cannot help and simply give in to. Maybe this is what is called as being selfless, I don't really know.
I think Dido hit the bull's eye with her melancholic song.
"But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
'cause nothing I have is truly mine."
Even for a person like me, who listens to Damien Rice to lift my spirits, what I feel right now is quite unique. Growing up I had my fair share of crushes and at that time I am sure I felt the desperation, the need to be noticed, the desire to be acknowledged, and yet somewhere within me there was always a sense of detachment. Like I always looked at the world including myself from a distance.
But the last few weeks I have gone from feeling ecstatic, to mildly annoyed, to downright crushed thinking that my feelings will never be returned, to finally desperately clutching at my inner protective layer of cold disengagement.
It is not easy for me to explain to people my brand of phobia. I loosely call it a phobia of commitment, but that is not truly what it is. I have always wanted to belong, just not at the cost of losing my self. I want everything, while not owning anything. And that is how I want to be accepted. I want to be the sore thumb, and I want you to love me for being the sore thumb. Maybe this is what is called being selfish, I don't really know.
Somehow it is equally difficult for me to explain what I feel about certain places. Places are like living and breathing personalities, which are sometimes split and contradictory like my own. And some of them tug at your heart and tangle your brain signals. This chemical imbalance is often described as love, but not the happy chirpy kind, it's the one with intense pain and anguish. The give-give type. The one which goes against reason, the one you cannot help and simply give in to. Maybe this is what is called as being selfless, I don't really know.
I think Dido hit the bull's eye with her melancholic song.
"But if my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy
Well I deserve nothing more than I get
'cause nothing I have is truly mine."
