PseudoLove

I think that in some masochistic way, I used to like unrequited love. It was almost a pleasurable thing for me to have this person that I elevate. I’d listen to Chet Baker’s “My Ideal” and pine and think of how perfect that imaginary boy was. But maybe I always knew he was imaginary. In my diary, I always used words like mysterious, untouchable; in geometry, my teacher would talk about intangible lines, planes, and I’d think of him. He was always far, far away, so far away that he was like a one-dimensional fictional character, an intangible plane in space, a dream, a sublime hero in a poem -- the Lancelot of "Lady of Shalott."And I think, I was really, really stupid, and all that pining may just reveal that I didn't want anyone at all. Maybe I was just scared of love and all the baggage that comes with it. Maybe I’m so magnetically drawn to mysterious boys because they’re mysterious---they're close enough to be electrifying, without being too terrifying.  I no longer want to fall for some mysterious boy too quickly and create a false, highly mythical identity for him. I’ve been so disappointed in life because I have hugely high expectations, created by listening to too many love songs and watching Benny and Joon too much and reading too much Yeats and listening to Chet Baker's "My Ideal" too much.