I’d like to think I value myself, I’d like to think I have some self-worth and self-esteem. Yet when I think of my romantic affairs so far, it contradicts exactly that which I think of myself.
There are few things and a few someones that have contributed to this constant questioning of my character. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?
I was 16 the time I had my first kiss. Naturally, with being teenager came the hormone blasts combined with the ability to control my emotions to that of a toddler. Actually,that may be insulting to toddlers, but none the less, the last thing I cared about was whether this kiss or this someone I was kissing is good or not. Whether he’s gonna hurt me, or not. All I knew was that I’d just been kissed and it felt amazing and I wanted to be kissed forever. Except in my fairy tale, forever was 2 days. God! honestly now it’s just kind of funny and I wish I hadn’t been that desperate. I really, really wish, I never kissed him. I really wish my first kiss meant more to the person who got it. I really wish now, that I’d waited for someone, anyone who wouldn’t make me feel like I do now, nearly 2 years later, that I have no value. It’s hard to think that he probably never even thought of me as anything. I was probably just another one he’d had a good make out sesh and didn’t really matter. I mean the guy has had many sex companions so why would it matter. In fact, I bet if you asked him now, he’ll probably have a hard time remembering who I even am.
Now, if you’re gonna come to me with, “O! get over it, it was just a kiss”, well spare me the advice, will ya? I’ve been trying and I guess I am over the kiss itself, except that incident left me with a little more cynical view at life and love. Even more so than before. I’d gone through a really bad thing with another guy before that and it had been so draining. What happened with him felt more or less virtual and if I thought hard enough, I could almost believe it wasn’t real. But that didn’t matter. Irrespective, of what happened, I didn’t really care. This guy was gonna be a new start for my love life, or shall I say, lack thereof.
I came from a very religious background, brought up in the outskirts of Asia. So, during that time, it’d been nearly 4 years since, I’d moved to England. And turning 16 meant the hormones emerged, i’d experience this new thing called lust and didn’t really know what to do. I couldn’t go to my parents because where I’m from it’s not something you talk about with them. But I still tried to talk to my mom and I think she was far more damaging than helpful, given her opinions. I’d been brought up to think these sort of things are bad and sinful. Since, I always had a close relationship with god I considered myself to be a terrible person because I felt such things. Nobody was really there to tell me any different.
It was so damn hard to cope with, on top of the culture war going strong in my head and my inability to belong to either. Back then the line in the middle looked like the worst line ever. I was never happy to embrace the culture I’m originally from and the new culture was more open but in ways, less embracing and quite intimidating.
The more I remember, the harder it gets to deal with them. I wish I never locked away these feelings but it’d felt so painful at that time, I didn’t know how else to deal with it. And as time went by, I thought I’d gotten over them and that they didn’t matter anymore. Clearly, I was wrong. Time has caught up with me and these feelings still feel so real. The pain has gone down far more, but it has been replaced with longing. And my incapability to let myself think of dating just means I’m here being sad and lonely longing for something more, writing on my blog while everyone out there is getting a taste of how it’s like to have someone. The fact that the only person I actually fell for in last 2 solid years has a girlfriend and to lengths is a giant douchebag doesn’t really help my situation.
I just hope that the future holds something pure and real. I don’t want to be left as an extra bite on an unsatisfying meal again.