I read an article about being in love the other day.
It said that according to brain activity, being in love is a temporary feeling. An obsessive, distracting, consuming feeling. The racing heart, anxiety, anticipation. That a brain in love mimics a brain with a drug addiction. But then it goes away.
What is this feeling called, then, when it isn’t temporary? What if you feel this way for months, even years, every time you see the same person?
Try falling in love after someone like that.
I fell in love with a sociopath, and I lost my mind.
I ran past every red flag. I stayed through all his grief over someone else. I wrote poems, songs, blogs. I fell in love in a way I never have, and faster than ever.
He was mesmerizing, and knew it. His eyes, his confidence, his boldness, his intelligence. I was addicted from the moment I saw him, and the fact that he initiated a conversation with me made me feel like the luckiest girl alive. Our connection was intense. We spent an embarassing amount of time just staring at each other. He made me feel like we were the only two people on earth. He was so charming, and he knew just what to say to get what he wanted.
What he wanted was rarely sex. In fact, for months we barely touched each other. I felt like I hardly knew him because he didn’t let anyone in. He loved to argue with anyone about anything, he loved saying wild things just to shock people, and he had no problem making me feel humiliated in public. He would choose to be sensitive or caring when it was going to benefit him. He just wanted to play a game with me, and it was so confusing and felt like torture. I never in my life understood the desire to self harm until this point. Self harm finally sent me to counselling. I was constantly sick to my stomach from my own thoughts.
One day I crossed him and he decided he would get back at me by making another girl his girlfriend; a girl that I knew and crossed paths with almost daily. Him and I had slept together the day before I heard this news. I can’t explain the hurt I felt. He did it because he knew I wanted to be his girlfriend, and he never gave me that. But despite my anger and hurt, it wasn’t long before he persuaded me to be his mistress, claiming that he made a mistake and was going to leave her. That’s when sex became much more desirable to him. The cheating went on for months. I felt like I lived for him, and I wasn’t happy unless he was around. I was crumbling, constantly wanting more, wanting different, and he relished in that. He loved keeping me just within reach, even when he dated someone else. After I’d lied to everyone and even lost some friends during this time, I finally told him I couldn’t do it anymore, it was too much. It’s me or her. I could tell he didn’t expect it. I scared him, and he finally left her for me.
Then we were together, officially. Together all the time, every day. We went on vacation to another country, and we talked about moving in together. We shoplifted a lot, and joked that we were famous criminals in love. We were happy somehow, despite all we’d been through, until a drug and another pretty girl got his attention. He cheated, and tried to make the end of us sound like my fault. I saw a photo of them together just a couple of days later; he was flaunting her in my face. I was broken. I told him not to call me, not to text me. I told him to never speak to me again, and after I ignored a couple of texts pleading ‘don’t leave it like this’, he listened.
After four entire years went by, I had the scariest depression of my life so far. I didn’t want to be alive. I felt I had no direction in my life and being in love is not what I thought it was; I still haven’t felt that strongly for someone else. Some may say that’s a good thing. When I started having anxiety attacks that stopped my breathing, I decided to see a doctor, which led me to medication and a therapist. My therapist tried to do an exercise with me that involved saying goodbye to him, and I said I’d try it, but when we began the exercise I burst into tears. I never was able to complete it. A few months after the depression had finally passed, I felt it was time to do something big. I needed some kind of closure to release myself from years of hurt and blame and what-ifs, and to make it known how badly I was treated. I didn’t want an exercise; I wanted the real thing.
Since we had blocked each other indefinitely on every social media after our breakup (we hadn’t seen or heard from each other in about 5 years), I took one shot of tequila (for bravery) and wrote him an email asking for a conversation.
To my surprise, he responded almost instantly with his cellphone number. It hit me then what I’d done, and I was shaking. He agreed to meet me.
(more soon)
may5
Today I just want to feel nothing and be nothing and just disappear because yeah love is more than worth it but there isn’t any. It was gone with you, and I haven’t seen it since, and that’s the fucking truth.
I’m talking about real, infinite, sure love. As sure as my eyes were locked on you walking across the stage floor to the piano, as sure as my heart was flying the first time we spoke, as sure as our first kiss laughing in my bed, as sure as your voice when you stated, “I am in love with you,” on a city bus loud enough for passengers around us to hear.
Some shitty adult things made me break down and cry last night. Then I fell asleep and dreamt of you again in my boyfriend’s bed.
A small group of my friends brought me to your house. I didn’t know where we were going. Somehow they didn’t know anything about us even knowing each other. Just unfortunate mutual friends. I was shocked to see you, but I kept my cool as best I could. I had no idea how to act around you. I just tried to keep them oblivious.
I didn’t want to yell at you or hit you or even ignore you. I don’t remember talking to you much there. I do remember that your house was also your fiance’s house, but she wasn’t home. It’s almost like you knew I was coming. I bet you did. You suspiciously glanced over at me once in a while, just like you used to in a room of people. I guess you can only dream of someone how you knew them to be. You would probably look and act much differently now.
After my friends and I went home, I spent time looking for your social media profiles. I don’t know why I’d want to further torture myself, but that’s what I did. I’m not sure if my awake, real life self would do that. I haven’t in a long time, and we’ve had each other blocked on everything for years. Sometimes it feels like you aren’t even real, like you just vanished into thin air. Maybe I want to keep it that way.
I woke up today with very puffy eyes.
I hate you. Get out of my head. Get out of my sleep. Get out of my life. When things start to feel good, you appear and then I feel like this. I say all this, and I am so angry, but I want to talk to you. I want to talk, but I don’t want you to know what you’ve done 4 years later. And I don’t want to see how well you’re doing or how good you look or the woman you’re with. I’m so sick of mundane, small conversations and it sucks to say that you never, ever gave me that. You were actually fucking interesting. I thought you were the sexiest thing alive. And now I just hate you so much but you’re still here, in my head. You’re here when I’m with the man I love. Most of all you’re here when I’m alone. You’re here right now while I drink this sizable glass of wine that’s making me turn this anger into a desire for hate sex. I want to yell at you and apologize and apologize. I want your apologies too. I just can’t picture any scenario that wouldn’t just boost your ego. I feel like there are no words I can say to you that will change the way I feel.
I need something. And then I need to never see or hear of you again.
sometimes I want to scream my feelings at you
It is not initially what you say that upsets me, but my own mind interpreting your words a million different ways.
myskittishramblings 