My whole life, I've tried very hard to love right and love good. I must tell you that before I start. that I've tried my whole life to do great things in romance, and I have not failed
I have not failed. the people of my past, I loved them truly and fully, and I could still tell you to this day what I admired most about every single one of them. A was an eccentric and wily girl, she lit up every room she walked into. M was a funny boy, that cared for his friends so deeply, and prioritized his family no matter how evil they were to him sometimes. S had the most gorgeous blue-green eyes I'd seen in my entire life, and to this day when I look at them I am still captivated by that undying sparkle of determination at their core.
but I wasn't in love with any of them. Coming to terms with being aroace has been one of the hardest things in my life.
here's where my real dilemma starts: I tried one more time to attempt to fall in love. One more time to deny the truth that has been lingering over my head like an ugly and loose chandelier, threatening to break on top of me at any moment.
and I met him. A charming boy, always off to the side of the class and only casually cracking jokes, but the whole classroom would feel off and empty if he wasn't there. I was captivated. I first met him because he helped organize a group online to cyberbully me for being gay.
I thought, "just give him a chance! he came out now. He realizes he's also queer, even if he has never uttered a morsel of regret or a sorry in your direction. Ignore that the first thing he said to you when you two were all alone at a camp was a quote of how terrible of a person you are from someone that actively helped 3 individual people put you in danger."
Am I a rehabilitation center, or a boyfriend, or a step in father figure? WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE? WON'T I BE ALL OF THAT AND MORE OVER HOW DESPERATELY I WANT TO LOVE AND BE LOVED?
I think I want to be comforted. "No Bug, you aren't a bad person for one singular relationship where you couldn't let go of anything he did for the life of you"
"No Bug, you're not a bad person for things you did when you were 14 and getting sexually assaulted by the people you loved most every single day."
"And Bug, you don't have to be constantly haunted by the girl you were in the past. you don't have to see her in every meal, glaring at you through every window, her face reflected in your morning coffee, the ghosts of her sobs etched into your bedroom walls and your blankets."
"No Bug, you didn't possess the body of a girl you could never be. you didn't rob an innocent little girl of her own life. you didn't destroy her potential before it even got to reach it's peak"
But I write her name more beautifully than she ever could. I always feel like I'm here on borrowed time, that all love given to me is not inherently mine, and that I'm nothing but a very weak man for writing this and then that and then I never shutup because these words I spill, the eyes and hands and the tounge I create them with, they aren't mine either.
please be patient with me! After I sort my shit out now, I hope you'll save me a date next October.
