A Rant from a Disillusioned Lover
From the moment you were born, whether you noticed or not, you have been submerged into a game of "Who Will You Fall in Love With?"
Parents laugh and joke about the other baby boy who comes by and plays with your toys and sleeps next to you.
By the time you're a toddler people will comment, "Oh Susie and Gary are adorable together!"
Then when you come home from kindergarten, you will sit and brainwash yourself with ideas of love- and thus the dizzying downward spiral begins.
Throughout elementary school adults will read you love stories and ask if you have a crush on anyone. It's all done in fun, of course; there's no aforethought or preconceived notion of how this will turn you into a lonely adult because you believe without your "One True Love", your life doesn't truly matter.
Oh sure, it matters, but it'd be even better if you had a love story like John and Mary who have been together since the sixth grade.
Then there's that godforsaken phrase that'll really screw with your head: "The One"- as if you'll only fall in love once, or if you already have fallen in love, you're doomed to be alone.
Now we move into middle school. As puberty hits, feelings become more intense, nothing like the older teen years, but enough to make you blush and leave you an anxious mess when he says he wants to kiss you. Everything before this was a prologue, something to prelude "The good stuff" the more "important parts", where it gets really interesting.
Middle school is usually where things begin to heat up. Whether it's when you realize your best friend looks different and is all of a sudden someone who you can't stop thinking about, even when you're asleep, or maybe it's an awkward crush who you tried over and over and over again to make things work, but it went nowhere. Maybe you were lucky: you met someone who was different, and you didn't have to try so hard, and suddenly going to a mattress store is a fun way to spend a Saturday. Everything is just so easy and fun with them.
Maybe you were a late bloomer who felt inexperienced because you only heard stories of love and crushes actually liking you back. Maybe you didn't care.
Personally, I know how Romeo and Juliet felt, excited with young love, ready to be with one another for the rest of their lives, with nothing to stop them. Only in my case Juliet died the tragic death while Romeo kept being Romeo to one girl after the next.
The point is the aftermath. A lost love and a broken heart only leaves jealousy, hatred, pain, regret, and left over love that has nowhere to go except an unlucky victim.
I tried to move on, yet unfortunately, the first man I saw was on a TV screen. He already had his love, and it was a beautiful girl, and even though they broke up, they still got back together. They always get back together.
I looked at the screen through blurry eyes and shouted: "That's me! That's us! I understand now!"
We had to get back together, that's how love stories end. Never mind logic and reason and every rational thought in your mind telling you it's wrong- how could it have been love if you don't end up with them?
Quickly, I texted him, explaining my realization, which included all of the things that never mattered to a boy whose heart was colder than that night, especially when it came to me.
At that point his silent rejection didn't matter, I was crazed with the story's inevitable ending. So I went about writing novel after novel after novel, all taking up a suffocating amount of space in my room as I tried to write the perfect story with the perfect guy; "The One".
I was making stories where there were none and was subjecting myself to my own twisted imagination in which I truthfully had no say. I was under the control of the perfect love story, which gave me expectations on how I should act in order to get love back. At the same time I was losing my personality which was disappearing with every story and boy that didn't work out.
I forgot the world outside of the idea of love.
I write this to warn you, to warn others, and to warn myself, of the dangers of writing a novel where there is no story. There never was a story except the ones made up in our own heads.
Parents laugh and joke about the other baby boy who comes by and plays with your toys and sleeps next to you.
By the time you're a toddler people will comment, "Oh Susie and Gary are adorable together!"
Then when you come home from kindergarten, you will sit and brainwash yourself with ideas of love- and thus the dizzying downward spiral begins.
Throughout elementary school adults will read you love stories and ask if you have a crush on anyone. It's all done in fun, of course; there's no aforethought or preconceived notion of how this will turn you into a lonely adult because you believe without your "One True Love", your life doesn't truly matter.
Oh sure, it matters, but it'd be even better if you had a love story like John and Mary who have been together since the sixth grade.
Then there's that godforsaken phrase that'll really screw with your head: "The One"- as if you'll only fall in love once, or if you already have fallen in love, you're doomed to be alone.
Now we move into middle school. As puberty hits, feelings become more intense, nothing like the older teen years, but enough to make you blush and leave you an anxious mess when he says he wants to kiss you. Everything before this was a prologue, something to prelude "The good stuff" the more "important parts", where it gets really interesting.
Middle school is usually where things begin to heat up. Whether it's when you realize your best friend looks different and is all of a sudden someone who you can't stop thinking about, even when you're asleep, or maybe it's an awkward crush who you tried over and over and over again to make things work, but it went nowhere. Maybe you were lucky: you met someone who was different, and you didn't have to try so hard, and suddenly going to a mattress store is a fun way to spend a Saturday. Everything is just so easy and fun with them.
Maybe you were a late bloomer who felt inexperienced because you only heard stories of love and crushes actually liking you back. Maybe you didn't care.
Personally, I know how Romeo and Juliet felt, excited with young love, ready to be with one another for the rest of their lives, with nothing to stop them. Only in my case Juliet died the tragic death while Romeo kept being Romeo to one girl after the next.
The point is the aftermath. A lost love and a broken heart only leaves jealousy, hatred, pain, regret, and left over love that has nowhere to go except an unlucky victim.
I tried to move on, yet unfortunately, the first man I saw was on a TV screen. He already had his love, and it was a beautiful girl, and even though they broke up, they still got back together. They always get back together.
I looked at the screen through blurry eyes and shouted: "That's me! That's us! I understand now!"
We had to get back together, that's how love stories end. Never mind logic and reason and every rational thought in your mind telling you it's wrong- how could it have been love if you don't end up with them?
Quickly, I texted him, explaining my realization, which included all of the things that never mattered to a boy whose heart was colder than that night, especially when it came to me.
At that point his silent rejection didn't matter, I was crazed with the story's inevitable ending. So I went about writing novel after novel after novel, all taking up a suffocating amount of space in my room as I tried to write the perfect story with the perfect guy; "The One".
I was making stories where there were none and was subjecting myself to my own twisted imagination in which I truthfully had no say. I was under the control of the perfect love story, which gave me expectations on how I should act in order to get love back. At the same time I was losing my personality which was disappearing with every story and boy that didn't work out.
I forgot the world outside of the idea of love.
I write this to warn you, to warn others, and to warn myself, of the dangers of writing a novel where there is no story. There never was a story except the ones made up in our own heads.
I think this is my new Favorite
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