Thursday, September 07, 2006
What does it mean to love? I have no idea.
I am a terribly selfish person, sad to say. I have hurt the people who, undoubtedly, love me, because I only cared about my own feelings, and not theirs.
What person would I fall in love with? What kind of person would I be able to love?
A pertinent question.
For falling in love and loving someone mean two different things. Learnt that the hard way. Love is terribly confusing to the uninitiated, yet at times it is so painfully clear that it hurts.
How many times must I tell myself that I could possibly be in love with that person? Do I love that person? In my own way, perhaps. But then again, I save a peculiar affection for all of my close friends. Chengwei mentioned that I make friends very carefully. And so I do. And because of that care, I make stronger attachments to my friends than what is normal, perhaps. Or not. I simply treasure them greatly. That is all.
I could not possibly be in love with another. The only thing/person/entity that I could be in love with is myself. I'm too much of a narcissist for it to be any other way.
Saying that you did something for the sake of someone else sounds very noble, but it is also very selfish. Because in doing so, you place the responsibility of your action on that person as well. I hope that I have never said or done that to someone. My dad does it to me on a regular basis though. Everything he does, he claims, he does it for me. I don't dispute the veracity or sincerity of the claim. I am simply annoyed that I have to bear the burdens of his sins in this indirect way, alongside the sins of which are of my own making.
Yet I am perhaps grateful that he values me this greatly. Perhaps. It is a burden though, a burden I must bear. Loving someone is apparently difficult. I can tell you that being loved by someone you, at the very least, care about is not an easy task either. It would not have been a problem if you do not care about the person who loves you, but if you do, then the love becomes a burden if you are unable to return it.
I am not explaining it well, I think. Let me try again. When someone loves you, truly loves you, they will not be asking for any reward whatsoever in return for their love. But we are all human, and no one can dispute that we would like a little acknowledgement, no matter how slight or insignificant, to show that the person we love actually noted and cared about the little gestures you lavish on them.
It is perhaps guilt then, that motivates me to believe that the love lavished on me has become a burden. I am, as I have said before, a very selfish person. Before all else, everything and anything is secondary to my own personal well-being. It is lamentable to note that I, one who has known the loss of a deeply loved one, still takes the love of another so lightly, or for granted.
But then again, it is probably the fact that, having known loss, the instinctive reaction would have been to protect oneself from experiencing the same pain. Hence the resentment, the rejection of the love that has become a burden to oneself, because deep down, the child hopes that if one did not love as deeply, maybe when the inevitable loss comes, the pain would not be as intense.
I do not know if it actually works that way though. Does denial of love equate not-loving at the same time? I don't suppose so. Yet, the continual reminder that inevitably, they would one day leave us is a sufficient deterrent towards forming the kind of all-consuming attachments that threaten to swallow us within it. Or perhaps, it would teach us to treasure the times we share together before the destined parting.
I do not know. I feel that I do not know anything anymore. My head hurts when I think of such deeply confusing matters. I would rather debate on the viability of the multiple world theory, or engage in pleasant discourse regarding creationism vs evolutionism, then soliloquise over the matters of the heart. Somehow, love is possibly the most baffling thing known and unknown to mankind at the same time. It is undefinable, unquantifiable, immeasurable and ultimately indescribable.
My head is spinning, and the heart hangs heavily in the middle of my chest. I know nothing. What I do know, however, is that I'm incapable of love, simply because I am unable to overcome my own vanity and that of the shadows that haunt my heart. Simply, truly, honestly, I cannot return true love, because I know nothing of it and am unable to recreate it for anyone else.
A child is able to love unconditionally. An adolescent, such as I am, loves selfishly. A true adult, however...I cannot remember the full quote, sad to say. Perhaps that is significant in itself.
I do not want to be selfish, yet I am. I want to be loved, and I am, but yet I cannot seem to return the feeling with the same intensity. I try and I try to remember to let them know that I do appreciate them, but somehow, in the midst of being obsessed with myself, I keep forgetting. Perhaps I do not want to care about them, but it is undeniable that on some level, I do. I just don't want to have to do anything about it, selfish person that I am. Being loved, after all, is easier than loving someone. No matter how much of a burden it places on us.
Suppose then, I stride on, my head held high, defiantly against the norm, yet completely uncertain of who I was, who I am, and who I am about to become. Isn't it exciting? Only if one is an adventurer at heart. Or just simply fond of risks.
Sometimes, in life, we just gotta close our eyes and make that leap forward. Looking before we leap might be a good idea, but looking too much might stop one from ever leaping forward. Perhaps it is time to strike a balance.
~Owari
]
I am a terribly selfish person, sad to say. I have hurt the people who, undoubtedly, love me, because I only cared about my own feelings, and not theirs.
What person would I fall in love with? What kind of person would I be able to love?
A pertinent question.
For falling in love and loving someone mean two different things. Learnt that the hard way. Love is terribly confusing to the uninitiated, yet at times it is so painfully clear that it hurts.
How many times must I tell myself that I could possibly be in love with that person? Do I love that person? In my own way, perhaps. But then again, I save a peculiar affection for all of my close friends. Chengwei mentioned that I make friends very carefully. And so I do. And because of that care, I make stronger attachments to my friends than what is normal, perhaps. Or not. I simply treasure them greatly. That is all.
I could not possibly be in love with another. The only thing/person/entity that I could be in love with is myself. I'm too much of a narcissist for it to be any other way.
Saying that you did something for the sake of someone else sounds very noble, but it is also very selfish. Because in doing so, you place the responsibility of your action on that person as well. I hope that I have never said or done that to someone. My dad does it to me on a regular basis though. Everything he does, he claims, he does it for me. I don't dispute the veracity or sincerity of the claim. I am simply annoyed that I have to bear the burdens of his sins in this indirect way, alongside the sins of which are of my own making.
Yet I am perhaps grateful that he values me this greatly. Perhaps. It is a burden though, a burden I must bear. Loving someone is apparently difficult. I can tell you that being loved by someone you, at the very least, care about is not an easy task either. It would not have been a problem if you do not care about the person who loves you, but if you do, then the love becomes a burden if you are unable to return it.
I am not explaining it well, I think. Let me try again. When someone loves you, truly loves you, they will not be asking for any reward whatsoever in return for their love. But we are all human, and no one can dispute that we would like a little acknowledgement, no matter how slight or insignificant, to show that the person we love actually noted and cared about the little gestures you lavish on them.
It is perhaps guilt then, that motivates me to believe that the love lavished on me has become a burden. I am, as I have said before, a very selfish person. Before all else, everything and anything is secondary to my own personal well-being. It is lamentable to note that I, one who has known the loss of a deeply loved one, still takes the love of another so lightly, or for granted.
But then again, it is probably the fact that, having known loss, the instinctive reaction would have been to protect oneself from experiencing the same pain. Hence the resentment, the rejection of the love that has become a burden to oneself, because deep down, the child hopes that if one did not love as deeply, maybe when the inevitable loss comes, the pain would not be as intense.
I do not know if it actually works that way though. Does denial of love equate not-loving at the same time? I don't suppose so. Yet, the continual reminder that inevitably, they would one day leave us is a sufficient deterrent towards forming the kind of all-consuming attachments that threaten to swallow us within it. Or perhaps, it would teach us to treasure the times we share together before the destined parting.
I do not know. I feel that I do not know anything anymore. My head hurts when I think of such deeply confusing matters. I would rather debate on the viability of the multiple world theory, or engage in pleasant discourse regarding creationism vs evolutionism, then soliloquise over the matters of the heart. Somehow, love is possibly the most baffling thing known and unknown to mankind at the same time. It is undefinable, unquantifiable, immeasurable and ultimately indescribable.
My head is spinning, and the heart hangs heavily in the middle of my chest. I know nothing. What I do know, however, is that I'm incapable of love, simply because I am unable to overcome my own vanity and that of the shadows that haunt my heart. Simply, truly, honestly, I cannot return true love, because I know nothing of it and am unable to recreate it for anyone else.
A child is able to love unconditionally. An adolescent, such as I am, loves selfishly. A true adult, however...I cannot remember the full quote, sad to say. Perhaps that is significant in itself.
I do not want to be selfish, yet I am. I want to be loved, and I am, but yet I cannot seem to return the feeling with the same intensity. I try and I try to remember to let them know that I do appreciate them, but somehow, in the midst of being obsessed with myself, I keep forgetting. Perhaps I do not want to care about them, but it is undeniable that on some level, I do. I just don't want to have to do anything about it, selfish person that I am. Being loved, after all, is easier than loving someone. No matter how much of a burden it places on us.
Suppose then, I stride on, my head held high, defiantly against the norm, yet completely uncertain of who I was, who I am, and who I am about to become. Isn't it exciting? Only if one is an adventurer at heart. Or just simply fond of risks.
Sometimes, in life, we just gotta close our eyes and make that leap forward. Looking before we leap might be a good idea, but looking too much might stop one from ever leaping forward. Perhaps it is time to strike a balance.
~Owari
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