After stumbling in and out of a few relationships endlessly, and bad ones, if I may add, I could safely believe that I am much more mature than I was before, although none the wiser. I love the attention and flattery of a new-found lover, and have never failed to indulge by immersing myself in the 'tag, you're it' illusionary high that entrails in the pursuance of passion. But every game has its rules, and always, I end up the loser.
Perhaps to call each encounter love would be over-rated. I truly do not think I know what love is in this context. I had allowed myself to experience what each man had to offer, which was very much like tasting a selection of appetizers from a menu. Each person would bring out a different quality in me. In fact, I would go as far to say that I am quite like a mirror that reflects the person I am with at each time. However, I have come to notice a certain tendency which quite eluded me for all these times, and that is I have never treated myself with respect, and that I may not have loved myself as much as I should have.
Each serious relationship that I was in, I gave all of myself and left nothing for me. My idea of a picture-perfect relationship was of selflessness, self-sacrifice and tolerance, all of which brought me endless pain, heartaches and disappointments. I became a victim of my self-inflicted torture. At the end of each relationship, I am depleted of self-esteem and a total wreck, living on my parents' love and understanding. And ironically, within these heart-wrenching heartaches, is where I eventually found my addiction for the emotional pain. I truly lived through the emotions in slow-motion and cherished the lessons it taught me. It is also during these low periods in my life that I truly connected with myself.
As much as I hate to admit it, the so-called love and heartbreak are both extreme emotions that evokes raced-heartbeats, confusion and to a certain extend fantasy, and are perhaps the same thing but labeled differently; just like the freezing cold and boiling hot, both gives pain. And what is pain, but just another reaction?
I am approaching yet another juncture in my life where I think I am in love. Oh, what is love? But just thinking about the exit point simply makes me cringe with fear. I may enjoy the pain if it was inevitable, but to invite it into my life is unthinkable. Although I may have accumulated some experience on break-ups, and may have become accustomed to being dumped, I am still hopeful that one day, my soul mate may share my life and there is a happy ending after all. Therefore, I resolve to love myself more before I love another again.
