Unrequited love : XIX.
June 28, 2014 § 19 Comments
It hurts at a lot of places inside you.
When he doesn’t reply to your text; when he shrugs at the mere mention of the idea of love; when you see he understands what pain you are in and does not do anything to change it; when he denies living in denial mode; when he secretly smiles at your poetry but never let’s you know; when he lives in a shell and its almost impossible for you to break it because he is resisting so much; when his touch touches you a lot deeper than the surface and he knows it; when the world ceases to move around you when he’s around and yet he’s aloof; when you watch him having a supposed illicit relationship with the freedom that he so badly needs.
It hurts. It cringes your insides. You become so desperate that you start selling yourself to him. You need him so badly yet you can’t reach out to him. You end up waking from your otherwise normal sleep at odd hours, crying your guts out. On those nights, sometimes you call him up because you want him to tell you that he could come over that very moment to hold you; sometimes you don’t because you’re a strong independent woman who must learn to handle herself.
You forget that there is something called self respect that must restrain you when the love is not reciprocated. The “self respect” has been taken out of your system, tied in a bundle and put at his feet. He might not even be aware of its existence because he’s never really seen it.
You become hopeless. Not that you stop expecting, but being hopeless assures that your expectations are grounded. So a single phone call of his can brighten you up for days.
You want to kiss him but you can’t because you don’t know how will he handle your need for intimacy. What if he misunderstands the purest of your emotions (barring the dirty thoughts) for lust? You can’t let that happen. So you hold back, resist, fight the urge to run your fingers tenderly through his hair and just kiss him!
At times you feel victimized. You hate him for not loving you back , for not reciprocating, for not understanding the intensity, for not surprising you with flowers.
On other occasions, you’ll feel as though it is only this emotion that is keeping you alive and you can spend the rest of your life staying enveloped in its arms. The arms of the emotion, not necessarily his.
It will make you, the epitome of confidence and flamboyance, conscious in his presence. The tomboy in you will suddenly be transformed into a prim and proper lady.
You wouldn’t mind driving down 20 odd kilometres only to be with him for half an hour. And the moment he’ll say that he feels guilty for not spending enough time with you, your heart will do a few somersault’s!
You’re in a constant battle with yourself. A part of you feels beautiful, the other scarred. The beautiful parts will want to continue loving him forever, the latter part makes you want to scream. A part of you feels important, the other rots.
You know that you’re headed perhaps headed for a head on crash, towards a dead end. But the least thing you’re worried about is crashing, or finding your way back. It feels as though the moth has found its flame. As though the burnt child has fallen in love with the fire.
It creates self doubt in you. You ask yourself all the time as to why would he not love you back? You’re irked with the thought that he might be capable of feeling a love so deep that can drown you, he just cannot feel it for you. Don’t even get me started about what that does to your confidence.
You would really have to work on your patience level to not tell him that of course there’s a way out. That of course something can be done about it. That of course the whole situation can be changed. If only, he could put his mental block aside and give himself a chance. You find that patience in his silence, in his resistance.
All that matters is his happiness. You don’t think twice before doing permanent damage to your self, for his momentary pleasure. People will call you silly and blind and what not, but it won’t matter. As long as he’s happy, it won’t budge your adamant ideologies about love and whatever pain it brings along with it.
Unrequited love alters the way you think, behave, function. It gets into your head and doesn’t get out. It gives you strength, yet slowly consumes you like a poison.
It makes you wish that you could look him in the eye one day, and finally get to say “I love you, too”.
And then once you start a “discussion” about unrequited love on your blog and read so many different view points, you ask yourself: “What am I doing?”
Someone might knock sense into your head and remind you that YOU are your priority, not love. That you need to find fulfillment in yourself first, before offering some of yours to someone else. That you contain all the answers to the questions you’ve never really asked him. That you’re the one living in denial mode, not him. That it’s okay to be in love,and not loved back. That you’re capable of living your life, loving him, while not being “together” with him. That you need to let go.
And you let him be.