Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[8]

"Once, there was a girl who vowed she would save everyone in the world, but forgot herself."

- -

Sloan

Relationships.

Love, passion, friendship, sex- we create bonds around each of these things.

What draws us to another person? What compels us to form a connection?

Which traits in each person match up, like dots waiting to be connected? Why does our brain tell us, "It's them. It's them"?

If you ask a psychologist, they'll start talking about emotional intelligence—the ability to understand others based on shared experiences—or empathy. They'll also mention your natural predisposition toward love.

Some people, no matter how hard they try or want to, just can't feel love for others.

We detect love and other feelings through various indicators.

We pick up emotional clues, observe body language, tone of voice—non-verbal communication.

We find ourselves intensely interested in what the other person has to say. We listen, observe—it's how we show them we're there. We try to understand where they're coming from.

My point is, we try.

Once our heart locks onto someone, we try like hell to show compassion. We keep trying, hoping for the same care in return.

Humans are sociable creatures; we rely on love and acceptance as much as our hearts rely on pumping blood.

I almost broke myself—no, I did break myself—trying to prove a million things to Ian. Things I thought didn't need proving when it came to your "other half"—back when I thought he truly was mine.

No matter how hard I tried, he made me feel small. Inadequate.

I made excuses for him.

I wanted to find a reason why the man I loved couldn't love me, even though he said the three words every day. I wanted an explanation for why the man I loved hurt my body, just like he did my soul.

He said the words every day, but after a while, I realized how empty they were.

How meaningless our relationship became when I stopped putting in the effort. When I started seeing him for who he truly was.

When I realized his eyes were only on me when he had to be, his smiles fake, his feelings masked.

I expressed those concerns, but all I got in response was his shouting, seething, calling me ungrateful. He told me to stop using my academic knowledge on our relationship, that there was nothing to fix. That everything was fine, and I was just grasping at straws.

The truth is, he lacked empathy. Ian only felt one thing in his body: rage. Nothing else.

Facing his inability to love made him cold and cruel. Suddenly, I was the one at fault for pointing out the issue. I was the one wrecking us.

We broke up months later after an incident that froze my blood and paralyzed my mind.

I took whatever strength I had left and used it to limp away.

Sometimes, I thank him.

It's ridiculous. Infuriating. But true. I thank him for wanting to break up with me, for losing interest in me. I thank him for freeing me from that abusive situation. It's enraging, isn't it?

How, in the end, it was up to him to decide my future? If he wanted, he could've easily kept me by his side. That thought terrifies me.

Back then, I couldn't see it. I was too under his spell to realize how he manipulated me.