Conditional Love

Henry Rollins was in my brain today, talking to me.  He was saying that some people are meant to be alone.  They try to incorporate other people, but when they do those people become a noise disturbance. 

I don’t think I was meant to be alone.  I need someone.  I need to be loved properly.  I always choose the wrong people - people who disappoint me, because they don’t love me enough to know what I need.  I often don’t know what I need until someone breaks me apart enough that I catch a glimpse into myself.  I want to fix people, to help people, but I don’t know how to fix or help myself.

I want to have a glorious affair with a man.  I want to spend several months in a hotel, where the sun shines all the time, or it rains every day, and I want to make love all day.  All morning, all afternoon, and all night.  I want to get out of bed only to eat or to play music or to wander the streets, holding hands.  I want someone who truly WANTS me.  Not someone who just wants to fuck me.  Someone who understands my brain and engages with it and takes up residence in it.  I don’t want a periodic visitor in my life; I want everything, all the time. 

I can’t have that.

 

I am destined to be alone, because no one I love loves me back in the same way.  They fuck with my brain.  They prey on the part of my personality which wants to cater to other people and make them happy.  They don’t want to reciprocate. 

And I’m (apparently) very bad at discerning who is good for me, because people just keep drive-by shooting into my life.  They say words out their mouths which are not true.  They might think what they’re saying is true, but they seem to just want a piece of me.  And after so many people keep taking pieces, what is left? 

I want someone to love me unconditionally.  But what if the love I’m giving is conditional?  What if I want more from people than they are willing to give, and that is my “conditional” love?  What if I am fucking it up from my end?  If only the people I love would talk to me, out loud, then I would know if I’m fucking it up.  But they never do.  I either get a bunch of meaningless words, or heartbreaking silence. 

Nothing wins better than silence, and I am incapable of it.