Love was this idea; this charged idea for me. Like mentioning it wasn’t okay, because it meant I had to accept I didn’t understand it. I had to accept that I’d never really felt it strongly enough to believe I’d ever felt it at all. I mean, I was always so detached. So… escaped. I mean, emotionally charged too. I blew up at the drop of a pin (seriously, it happened once. I just yelled my head off.) I cried every few weeks or days. I ran through depressed, euphoric, determined, hopeless, lazy, weak, unresolved, and depressed again all inside twenty minutes – every twenty minutes. So then, she talked to me that one day. I mean, it wasn’t the first time she talked to me, but that day she talked to me. And then this, like, spark blew in my head. It was fuzzy, and I was angry for having those feelings. Angry for another thing I had no control over.
I just wanted the conversation to be over. I wanted her face away, because I wanted it so close, and so I said “sure” and “yeah” and “see you later” and all that, and then I sat in a corner, and I just cried. I was overdue anyway. I told myself I wasn’t in love, and that it was just chemicals, but the science in me said that’s all love is: just chemicals. Then the philosopher in me said it was more than a simple scientific explanation, and, in response, I just yelled. ‘Course, I was put in detention for that as it was mid-class, but I didn’t really complain, I mean, I got to escape from home for an extra couple hours.
I got to escape HIM for a couple hours. I mean, what was it? Why did I even care? I didn’t live with him, he wasn’t around the house. He wasn’t even around the country. I had my little visits, but that was all. And yet, despite that, I for some reason cared and tried, for no reason. It was just this weird thing in my head where I didn’t know what to do, so for some reason I wasted my time and tried, which, of course always led to another long cry.
But, I’m digressing from the whole point of the matter here. Love. So, love is like fireworks. Not just one, but like that time they set all of them off at once in the city and it looked like the place was getting bombed and, like, ten people got fired. It’s like that. Love is when ten people get fired, because a lot of people got bombed. I think? But, again, I don’t know. I never was attached. My mother, my sibling, my friends. I did say I loved them, but there was always this uncertainty. This feeling that I might not really love any of them, because I didn’t love HIM, so why should anyone else be worthwhile anyway? Doesn’t matter, I guess, but it always ticked me off.
So, I managed to control myself and realize she wasn’t really talking to me the way I thought she was. I mean, she was just talking and my brain chose that moment to set off all the fireworks at once, not her. And then I sort of realized it didn’t matter, because if I really wanted to love someone, and they were up for it, I could. I mean, after all, why not? I liked them enough to try, so why couldn’t I succeed? So, I did, and I still wondered if I had it right, but, then again, who doesn’t? Who doesn’t wonder if they got it right? If they understood the lesson? If they understood why or how? Everyone wonders, but I wasn’t really happy to be normal, to be like everyone.