This is an answer to this post I reblogged yesterday by Frances Antoinette.
———————————————————————————————————————————————-Thank you Frances for understanding what I was trying to convey and for being so eloquent at quoting such wonderful words by someone I have heard of.
As much as I’ve tried to read the best of the best in world literature, I’ve lacked the opportunity do so, because I was never surrounded by people who read, or what they read was not my cup of tea. So most of my life I’ve always come across literary geniuses by coincidence, call it chance if you will, though I do not believe in chance nor coincidence. I believe the universe has a way of showing us something we need right there and then, and allow us to broaden our horizons reading works which express our own feelings in a much more eloquent and poetic way.
One thing I must say though, I never cared much for romantic literature, I prefer the dark and truth of reality, expressed in the most dark and truthful way possible. As one comic once said; polish a turd, it’s still a turd. As I mentioned before, loneliness is a choice, it might not be the right one, yet considering what the outside world, or even your close world of friends and family and acquaintances has to offer, it is best to be alone.
On the other hand, as far as feelings of love are concerned, I tried that once or twice and came to the realization it was not for me at all. After all what is love? How do you define love? What is that makes us fall in love? Let me tell you what it is that causes all that to “turn” into love; it’s loneliness, the unbearable feeling of being with one’s self, the echo of solitude within your four walls, the unbearable truths which surface where you cannot hide anymore. The voice of reason, the voice who speaks to you and tells you how worthy you are or not. It is the mirror of your own self being slapped right infront of you to show the devil inside. That is love, a miscella of fear, dependence and codependence. I’ve seen time and time again, all these lovers in love; it’s a joke, a farce laced with absurd deviation of what love truly is. How can you love and fall in love with another human being if you’re insecure within yourself in the first place? When you can’t even love yourself, or be able to look at yourself in the mirror and finally realize you love who you are? Why do such a people look for love on the outside, is it for validation, for comfort, for approval or else? Love, like any other emotion must have a reason to exist and if it doesn’t dies like anything else. We die, we change, and love does the same.I’m sure you’ve heard the expression; we’ve grown apart. Really? Have you? No my dear in this case what’s happened is that you’ve changed and your partner has not, you’ve moved on and also you must at some point realized you were in love for all the wrong reasons. No, you have not grown apart, but what you’ve done in this case is that you’ve finally realized you were in love for the sake of being in love. You were in love with the ideal of what love was. With the ideal of what a partner should be, and now, once you finally found your “ideal” you also found out it has flaws, so much so that the pedestal gets heavy and the deity falls on the ground.
How many times have I heard someone say; you’re a very nice person, I love talking to you, you have so much insight, but…you’re not what I’m looking for, you’re not my type. You see, I have this “ideal” person of what a boyfriend should be, and I’m sorry to say, but you’re not it. Lets remain friends. Thus these individuals let go of me to chase some fantasy and later I always hear the same winning about how nasty people are and how much they hurt you, and what jerks men are. I stand there listening to these people wondering how come they chased such volatile imbecilic ideal where everything is quantifiable and set in folders in such nice cases without even stopping to think for a moment that a quantifiable individual with the right criteria (which are most of the time merely physical attributes) have nothing more to offer than just that, a physical representation of what they find attractive. Yet neither brains nor soul is found in them, not a drop on intellectual seed where to lay a foundation and so they’re back to square one.
My god, how blind people are, chasing after such shallow ideals of beauty and love, and yet never realizing such attributes are just as volatile and without any strong base to build something on.
In the last 4 months, I’ve found myself in this position 9 times, with nine different people, all wanting to stay friends for later having to hear their ramblings and disappointments of meeting the “ideal” and having been shat by IT. Recently I asked someone I had been seeing a few months back; why did you leave me for someone else while we were just beginning to know each other? His response was; I found my ideal person, the one I had been searching all my life to become my partner, the one who offered me a relationship while you asked for more time to get to know each other. I asked again; than why are you in bed with me right now? His answer was; because my Ideal cheated on me, used me to pay for dinners, to borrow money he never paid back, to point out all he didn’t accept about me, while you accept me for who I am, you respect me and you give me closure and an ear I can talk to about anything and everything and know for a fact you understand and do not judge.
People have said to me many things; one of them was that I was deranged, sick, and psychotic. In turn I’ve seen such accusations fit exactly the person who accused me of such attributes in the first place.
I would like to close this long explosive expression with something that happened to me two weeks ago when I went to the Ballet. Behind me there was a doctor and his wife which didn’t stop talking for a second during the entire performance. Having paid my ticket like everybody else and though I don’t like ballet at all yet trying to make my two friends happy, I tried to do my best to enjoy at least the music by simply shutting my mouth and my eyes. It would have been sufficient if it weren’t for the constant nagging of the people behind me, a doctor and his wife. Two imbeciles, with outmost contempt for the arts, for when the curtain goes up you SHUT THE FUCK UP! – This why loneliness and being alone is worth holding on to. An Ideal is just as fleeting as the person who desperately searches for it.