On Loving More Than Being Loved

I decided to take the challenge on The Daily Post at WordPress.com: Just Do It! I’ll keep on posting things for the next 1 week, this is the second day. 🙂

So let me write a piece about my most favorite topic: love.

People say I’m a hopeless romantic. Too many of them have associated my twitter as one top spot for being insecure about ‘love’. No, it definitely has reasons behind. I’ve fallen in and out of love too many times it almost feels like a little itch that I can’t scratch.

I always see myself as someone who loves more than being loved. I often care too much about what people feel, and I end up sacrificing my own feeling or tell lies or keep on blurting sweet words just to make them happy, even to the people I loathe. I can’t stand making people hurt by frank expressions. I keep on having safe distance and let the hurt eats my own heart. As long as they’re happy. At times, I can only wash away the fact that the people I care don’t care about me. They just don’t. Often, at the end of the day, I can only accept the fact that I give too much love to the people whom actually don’t deserve it.

Same thing goes to the men I’ve met in life and been romantically intertwined with. I still love, even when I know they don’t. A lot of people have expressed their concern on how I can’t stop pitying myself over and over again, but this is the fact: Yes, I’ve been hurt too many times. By different people, different time span, different types, by more than a dozen men out there. See?

I’ve never been good in love. I always overthink about the most insignificant gestures, most surreal eye contacts, and I always end up wandering, lost in my own bubble of thoughts. “He loves me, he loves me, he’d loved me as long as I’ve loved him!” I whisper the comforting words whenever I have to endure the unreplied text messages, the broken promises, the inevitable rejections, the unreturned phone calls, the blunders, the misread signals. I hold on to the blind faith that someday I’ll find someone who makes me happy. Someone who says what he feels instead of sending meaningless ‘good night’s that will only make me think about more than just usual greetings. Someone who dares to make me his only one instead of just saying “I wanna be with you”. Someone who proposes to me, rather than just saying “You’re the best woman that I can imagine to be my wife”.

I’ve loved too many wrong ones in my life. This makes me think that maybe I am actually the wrong one. There, I blame myself again. Maybe I’m not pretty enough, maybe I expect too much, what if he likes another girl. I’m lost in “could have”, “should have”, and “if only”. More than once I’ve warned myself whenever someone new comes into my life. I thought I’d rather live in paranoia forever than let myself hurt for uncountable number of times. But every time love knocks on my door, every time someone gives me more-than-usual dose of attention, I can only watch breathlessly how myself fall into the same trap. Fueled by hope and overflowing expectations, I fall. Deep, deep, deeper. And I’ll find myself unfulfilled after weeks of denial, sometimes only to watch him goes away with another chick or just stops without any clear reason. Each and every time someone leaves this aching mark, I renew my promise to stay on the safe line.

But I know I’ll betray my own promise. I cling to the tiniest little glimmers of hope, tell myself that it can still happen, that it only takes time. In between the beginning and the end, I think to my own subconscious mind, maybe he’s not the one. Another series of maybe-s. And the cycle goes on: I began with hope and ended with hurt.

I don’t know how long it will take for me to find someone worth waiting for, worth fighting for, who will actually fight for me, who will make it clear that he loves me. There are 7 billion people in this world, can’t I just find someone who loves me equally well? I’ve tried to tune myself up: care more about how I look, dress up for dates, be the bubbly person everyone can easily relate to, switch to my version of being cheery and sweet and lovely. But still I don’t find any light of why I don’t deserve someone good. I see my friends and how easily they get another boyfriend after boyfriend, when I still can’t overcome the dramas of broken hearts.

Trust me, I don’t want to be dramatic, but this is the consequence for someone who loves more than being loved: in the end, you can only hope for the best — for them. Not for you. You’ll always be wasted, bashed, and bruised by careless people who don’t even care when they do play with your heart. Somehow, tho, all these dumb experiences will make you stronger than most people. Because a complete heart is a heart that has been broken. And I know, I know perfectly well that I’ll never give up hope for myself, for these missing parts of my weary heart that have survived through different war zones.

Somewhere in the name of faith, someone will come to me with no doubt and with clearest, purest intention. That someone will never cease to amaze me, and I’ll finally be able to love and be loved wholeheartedly.

Till then, I’m not gonna stop trying. I’m gonna do whatever it takes for however long.

Author: mfaradina

An Indonesian. A reliable realist outside yet a romantic dreamer at heart.

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