Editor’s
considering the impact writing had on my life through high school and college, it’s a wonder i don’t write more and or express myself more through the written word. i suppose that’s the fallout of 50-page research papers and late night blogging – you no longer care to do one of the few things you used to find solace in. but at the same time, there is something so particular about writing your thoughts down. tweeting them. emailing them. journaling them. they are ever more concrete; ever easier to analyze; ever harder to escape. the realities come crashing down for as we materialize our thoughts, reread our paragraphs, critique our own perspectives. it’s really the fear of complete comprehension that holds me back. i am truly my own worst enemy.
and even now, while i want to understand my own confusions, my hesitations, my insecurities, i’m afraid. i’m afraid of what i’ll actually see - my words mirroring back the person i never wanted to become…
ahh… but where to start? i’ve discovered that i am deeply rooted in my relationships with people. they justify me and make me feel whole. they validate my existence for i am someone who needs to be needed. the shoulder to cry on, the girl who dds all her guy friends home, the girlfriend who one day becomes wifey. i have an innate (or perhaps spurred by my demanding Asian parents) desire to be everything to everyone. to seemingly have it all - a career, a family, a social life, a relatively competent intelligence. this need has impacted my romantic life tremendously. i give 110% and commit whole-heartedly needing the validation from my significant other. the mutual commitment. the knowledge that someone, somewhere chooses me over any other girl because i am far superior. at the same time, i’ve found myself drawn to the men who help make make me feel whole because i’m unable to do that on my own. my insecurities, albeit better hidden than anything else in my life, consume me. i am not sure about my career; my family; my social life; my intelligence. the men i’ve been with have (in a fucked up and dysfunctional and probably unhealthy way) helped validate me. they are the ones who could be with any girl, but chose me.
as i realize this more and more about myself, i question my position and the position of relationships in my life. should i be in one? who am i really and what can i offer someone? what is love and what does it mean to love someone unconditionally? if i saw a shrink, would my shrink tell me that i have ‘daddy issues’ because my father was an absent figure in my life? is that where all this stems from??
i wonder if i am finally at a period in my life where i need to take a step back and reevaluate myself. steer clear of men/relationships and figure myself out for once. it couldn’t hurt. at the same time, i enjoy sharing my life with someone. physically. mentally. emotionally. it’s been a long time (if ever) since all three were interconnected and interwoven and i had the best of three worlds, but maybe this is it. someone who satisfies me physically while challenging me mentally and supporting me emotionally. and as with anything that seems too good to be true, it has its own difficulties/ complications: distance. money. age. aspects that may be overcome? probably. aspects that may be overcome in the near future? possibly not. and i don’t know if i am patient enough to wait for the final outcome… this is not a 2hr weird indie film to wait through and forget if it ends up being terrible. this is complete and utter commitment that may result in anger, resentment and be more draining than just ‘a waste of time.’
there were so many moments when i wanted to say ‘i love you’ … to share the devotion and dedication i’m willing to bring to us. to acknowledge the sadness i feel when we’re about to hang up for the night and i don’t have someone to wrap my arms around and fall asleep with. to verbally share my feelings and the butterflies that arise whenever i see your name appear on my caller ID. but i always hesitate. wondering if it’s too soon. if it’s all for nought. if it’s plausible that my impatience will once again sabotage me and ruin the potential of something great. us riding out the tough times together will make the smooth patches seem immeasurably more incredible, but i don’t know that there will be smooth patches. and i’m not one to do well with uncertainties. regardless of how absurd or unlikely, i want to know that there is more. that there is something to work towards, and that we have a plan. i want to know that this time, this energy, this money, this dedication is not squandered.
i suppose this is the downside of having been blessed with much at a young age. it’s easy to forget the process and time that go into a little thing called “LIFE.” i’ve always been one to want answers and want them now, to hell with the rest of the world. an old friend said that my impatience would be my undoing and he’s probably right.