self-discovery behind my poker face

All it took was someone showing interest in me. At first, he just annoyed me. Always talking to me, wanting to connect with me, appreciating my intellect and complimenting me on what a quality person I am. Not missing an opportunity to meet my eyes and twinkle at me. Imagine the nerve. I was cold, I put him off, I rolled my eyes whenever he complimented me. Despite the fact that I thought he was a lovely person, I was afraid to be nice to him.

I always like the fantasy guy. The guy who is almost assuredly not going to love me back. He's clearly too perfect for someone as ordinary as me. He goes on and on about his travels, what books he's read, how he sees things... without ever even thinking that I might have something interesting to say or might want to talk about the books I've read too. He more often than not, has a girlfriend - which doesn't stop him from forging a connection with me that is dangerously intense, and vaguely cruel.

And yet Fantasy Guy is far safer than the real guys, the ones who like me back and want me to see them for who they are, and don't try to hide their flaws. Because he can't hurt me. Not really, beyond the kind of romantic gushy feeling of unrequited affection, that I've grown quite accustomed to and may even like. Oh, I'm not kidding. I'm seriously twisted. Most of my friends already knew this about me, and were waiting for me to figure it out.

So how did this realization come about? One night earlier this week, feeling sad, defeated and in need of comfort only from those who were going through the same thing... And I found myself looking for him. Seeking him among the crowd. Which could mean only one thing. I might really like this guy. Somehow, over the five weeks since I met him, he's gotten under my skin and waged his campaign to win me over... without me noticing. and he did it. He won me over.

More importantly than whether he likes me or I like him, I've realized what a mizer I am with my heart.  And I don't like it. I am afraid to put myself out there, take a chance, risk real feelings and a real relationship. It doesn't matter who hurt me before or how many times, it only matters what I do now.  Do I allow this to continue or do I say 'No More, young lady! Risk it all, otherwise what's the point in life?!' I can stay in my cocoon but then how do I justify the waste of breath I become?

the answer seems obvious, to me. from now on, I'm all in.

the girl who loves men that don't love her back.

yeah, you know me. I'm the girl who is always in love with someone who doesn't love me back. Love is a spectrum disorder, that attacks in episodes in varying degrees of severity. Symptoms differ from case to case, episode length can vary from months to years. Unrequited love brings with it the sweetest agony that often presents with a case of martyrdom in otherwise healthy individuals. Many of whom will allow an episode to last years longer than necessary, doing untold damage to other parts of the psychic anatomy and preventing healthy relationships to develop.

I've loved you for so long now, that I can't remember when it started. And I don't know how to make it stop. Sometimes it hurts so much, that I cry... which I guess is not that unusual. But nobody has ever caused me to cry like this. LIke, it's actual pain in my chest, and in my heart and the sobs are so powerful that my whole body heaves with them. Last night it occurred to me that I will never find a man for myself that is like you, because there is none like you. When I'm with you I am so comfortable, I feel safe, I feel peaceful; your words and your voice bleed a calm around me that defeats any doubts in any situation.

I try not to love you. It's become a habit now. I try to 'be over you'. But over the years you've become a better man, constantly striving to overcome ghosts and succeeding, it doesn't seem fair to not love you now as you deserve it even more.

Always loving a man who doesn't love you back affects the way you behave with men you don't quite love. It makes you not honour the possibilities, makes you sacrifice your body to lust and impulse. It makes you not love perfectly decent men who might love you. It makes you wonder how you will ever meet someone when no one compares to him.

Unrequited love is the most severe degree in this spectrum disorder, and I've got a bad case. There really doesn't seem to be a cure.