As I was reminiscing on a past close friendship and how we eventually drifted apart to better lead our own lives, I happened upon the realization that deep connections terrify me to no end. Therefore, I harbor none. I do know a few people whom I consider close friends, even the friend whom I drifted away from - these are strong friendships born of trust and an understanding of each other rather than frequent socializing. Paradoxally, I value friendship way too much to limit it to seeing each other, or even often talking. It isn't a necessaity for me, and I actively avoid people who demand this much of me. Been there, done that, never again, as I've grown past these needs. In a way, I'm too old for this. I enjoy my solitude but, again paradoxally, I can't function without these trusted friendships. I'd like to think I'm at least somewhat important to them, but at the same time I refuse to get too attached in fear of getting hurt, again. I do keep people at a certain distance, close enough to have a home in my heart, but far enough I won't be hurt by being just 'a friend'. I suppose it conflicts with trust, but it isn't other people I don't trust: it's me. I refuse attachment because I don't have enough left of me to give out correctly. I have been drained, for years, and I'm still playing catch-up. Thus now I take more than I give. I know this. I realize this every day, and every day again I feel as though I am unworthy of what I am given. I never return what I am given, locked away behind doors of stone of which the key was broken years ago. No one, not a soul, may pass the threshold. I think it's impaired my writing abilities as well, as it's become exceedingly hard to get into my characters' brains.
Most of all, it hurts me every day to get the feeling I don't return the love that bf gives me, every day again. I'm incapable of opening up. Refuse it, adamantly, as fear and scars are etched deep inside my heart. Days I wonder what love is, and whether I really am capable of giving it - which I rationally know I do. I sometimes compared my feelings for bf and ex, at least what I remember of those days, and two things come abruptly to mind: one, the 'love' I felt for ex wasn't love at all, it was mad, blind attachment, and two, it was fierce and powerful in all its madness, but doesn't compare to the feeling of serenity I now possess... at the same time, this peace is what confuses me. Terrifies me, even, as I wonder whether it's normal to feel at peace and not something... more. I miss the something more. I miss the deep connection, and though I want to be able to share this with bf, it seems impossible at present. It was easier with ex, but that's because we talked an enormous amount (much more pre-relationship, when he still considered me an equal and not a child), and we shared artistic abilities. I try and force bf to step into my world and join me here, but forcing really isn't helpful at all. If it doesn't come from within, it's not going to come at all. And I can't exactly explain the importance of that inner world filled with beauties and monsters... it's just all me. To know me, you must follow me into my madness. It's a dangerous trip, and therefore I keep everyone at bay. For having known how it is to get lost in someone else's world, and forgoing your own.
But oh, how I long to establish such a connection again. Healthier, but based on the same principle of sharing your inner world with a person willing to listen and understand, which so far I'd say hasn't been a person I found. Well, bf comes the closest to this. It's just the (apparent) lack of investment that, sometimes, makes me just want to fold away into myself, who seems to be the only one understanding what it means to be me. A shattered, glued-back-together personality held together by the love of a man who fails in the single department I selfishly need him most to to succeed: reading. And, by extension, comprehending.
In the end, I think I'm just my own biggest obstacle/issue/grievance: I think way, way too much for my own good.
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