October 17, 2023 3:06pm - October 18, 2023 1:46am
I used to think I was in love with you. You weren't the first. I used to think a lot of things. Like how much I liked you compared to other people, and how our children might look. That last one, though, came much later. After society's trigger-happy response involuntarily slithered its way into my ear. Until after my family infected my brain, my thoughts—something they never really understood in the first place.
I think I love differently than most people. I know I love differently than most people. Deeper. Harder. More insanely. Complexly. I think most people take one look at how I love and think me delusional. And maybe I am. Maybe I am delusional. Maybe, I'm criminally and mentally insane. But you know what, I'm not in love. I know that now.
I used to lose a lot of sleep over that, actually. I've made the mistake of listening to what others have to say—others who claim they know me better than I know myself, which is irrational at best, because my self has yet to fully form, fully develop—on several occasions. They look, but they don't quite see. They look with their eyes; logic. Underdeveloped, theatrically-ridden tools, not fit to be trusted. Eyes fail. Logic... fails. These things can't always be trusted.
I love deeply. I love you, deeply. But I'm not in love with you. I've never been in love. I've been pushed into believing it; gaslighted, even. I was foolish enough to believe it was real. I felt the pain like it was real. But real love should NOT feel like that. It shouldn't have to feel like that.
My friendship does not function independently of infatuation. Of fascination. I have a curious mind, and it tends to linger. I am easily enraptured by the mere presence of certain individuals, which is often mistaken and perceived as lust, or romantic feelings, that simply aren't there. Perhaps because that's how it typically works for certain individuals.
I don't know. I think about that a lot. How different I am in my thoughts and actions than others. The language barriers set in place after years of growing up in a closeted, closed-minded society. One of tradition that tends to overlook the abnormal. In a society I've allowed to silence me.
I think a lot about a lot of things.
Constantly. Endlessly. Relentlessly.