Will I Forever Be Alone?10 Jun, 2018 07:08 AM
First off, this is 100% a true story, though know beforehand that this account is merely of my pains and griefs and without the comforts, both spiritual and not, which I have in my actual life.
Will I forever be alone?
Life was great up until junior year. The summer before, my parents and I visited Korea, my birthplace. I was excited at the idea of meeting my birth mother, but this was not to be. Instead, she recoiled at the thought of meeting me, refusing to meet me. I was...rejected...by the one person who was supposed to love me even when no one else would. When I was little, I remember asking my mom (adoptive) whether my birth mother loved me or not. She said she did, but what else could she have told her four-year-old daughter? That her birth mother didn't love her?! I had never questioned this until this first rejection.
Thus began the first of my pains.
Not quite healed from that rejection, by the end of junior year, I was stung by another rejection, only this time, it was from a boy. This boy I first began to love in seventh grade and have loved him ever since. He knew by the end of seventh grade that I liked him, but it wasn't really a big deal yet. I knew he didn't like me, and I endured the next few years comfortably. However, as time went on, hope began to build up in my heart, sometimes so strongly that I found it felt like anxiety or stress. By the end--wow I've said that a lot--of junior year, I finally mustered the courage to tell him how I felt, hoping things might have changed since seventh grade. By this point, we had already became close friends; I believe I was the closest friend he had (or still has, for that matter). I thought I had a fighting chance. We shared fifth period together, just the two of us, as we took an online course together. This was the perfect time to tell him, when it was just the two of us. Unfortunately, he was still taking a test at the end of the period, so I had to leave a note, instead. In it, I said that I valued his friendship above everything else and that the last thing I wanted was for it to be ruined. I also said that if he didn't like me back, it wouldn't hurt me or depress me. This turned out to be a lie. It was Friday, so I didn't hear his answer until Monday during first period. I was in class waiting for him to walk in, and he sat down next to me and said, "The answer is no." That was all I ever heard from him on that subject.
I was crushed. I pretended to shrug it off, but it was all just an act. It's funny, really, how you can feel pain pulse through you. It's not just the heart that hurts. You can feel it pulse down your arms and into your hands and fingers. Eventually, I thought I was finally getting over it during the summer, but this turned out to be false. I had actually fallen into a slight depression because of this second rejection. I also began to question the love my parents had for me. I was reminded of that Fairly Oddparents episode where Timmy wished he had never been born and saw that no one missed him; in fact, all his family and friends were all happier without him! The episode ends happier than that, but this morbid thought was how I saw myself at this point. I couldn't feel much love from my parents. My mom has a bunch of health problems which messes with her hormones, and my dad just isn't very expressive. Words of affirmation and physical touch are my main love languages, and from my parents, I wasn't getting much of those but more of the other ones, so I didn't feel much of their love, though I know they have much of it. At any rate, I sort of fell into a slump.
During the last half of senior year, still reeling from the pain of rejection, I entered a relationship, my first one, with another friend. I didn't love him; I never did. I thought this relationship would help me forget the one I truly loved, the one I was rejected by, but it didn't work. It only made me love him more. The relationship took a downward turn, and things were spiraling out of control; I even considered suicide at some point. If I had gone through with it, it would have been by drowning, for I felt like I was drowning in a mix of love and pain and loneliness.
Now, the first year of college out of the way, the past relationship long over with, I find I still love that boy. We're still very good friends, which I'm grateful for, but I fear I'm letting my hopes rise again, only for them to be crushed even more mercilessly and irreparably later, but I can't stop. I can't give up on the one person I've ever truly loved, and I know I never will. Many other people's tragic love stories are pretty sad, but most of them involve love being returned at some point. For them to be tragic, there has to be a happy time and then a terrible fall. What about those of us who don't even get that happy time?! I feel like Frankenstein's daemon, unloved by all, whose own creator refuses to give him a mate to ease his sufferings. C.S. Lewis said that love's value doesn't lie in its reciprocity, and the Bible says as much, too, but sometimes it would be nice for a little love to be returned, you know? I feel like I'm spending myself. My outflow of love isn't being replenished enough by my love inflow. My well of love is being put under a lot of strain. Oftentimes, I find myself thinking of Professor Snape from Harry Potter. I don't want to end up like him, having to see my love marry and have kids with someone else. I don't want to stand by and have to watch that. I love him enough to let him go, yes, but sometimes, I fear that might be too cruel a fate for me to handle. I also don't want to end up like my high school math teacher who was jilted at the altar (see The Jilting of a Lifetime for that true story) and never married afterward. How lonely that must be! I also think of Dante Alighieri, who was doomed to a life of loving someone he could never have. In fact, I identify deeply with Dante, who was also exiled from his hometown. I also was removed from where I call home, and also like Dante, I believe my love for my beloved helps draw me closer to God and teaches me virtue. This also brings me pain to know of Dante's earthly fate. He never gave up and still didn't get his beloved.
I don't want much in life. I don't have a lot of ambition. All I really want is to settle down and start a family of my own with the one I love. Is that too much to ask? I fear I'll die alone. I fear I may never find someone whom I can love as much as that boy. I fear he may never like me. I fear I'll die having never found somebody and having had to endure the love and pain this boy wrought on me for my entire life.
In addition to these fears, I recently admitted to my mom that I still liked this boy, and she flew into a rage. A traditional Christian, she regards my beloved as something hardly above the status of a pagan. It's not like he wasn't a Christian! She does not approve of him at all and was very offended that I love him. After all the pain and heartache I've had to endure, she's berating me for my suffering which I didn't even ask for? I can't control my feelings, and I have no intention of hurting hers or disappointing God, either! She went so far as to mock my feelings, as well. As if she knows anything of my pains! Has she no compassion? She went even farther and said that nothing would make her sadder than if we got together. Well, One, that isn't likely to happen, although I still have hope it will, and Two, nothing would make me happier. Now, the only hope I have is through my prayers, as I have no support from family or promising signs in reality, either. My heart throbs with a tenderness that will withstand all this pain. No matter how shattered and broken my heart gets, it will beat on with the same old love it has been.
Jacob waited seven years for his love, Rachel. We are coming up on that seventh year, now...surely it can't be that much longer...No matter what happens, though I may be shoved to the ground and forced to crawl in despair my entire life, my love will ever burn for you, Femm. I wait for you with an open heart.
Update: Before my sophomore year of college started, I decided to ask him once more if he would give me a chance. The seven years were up. However, my hopes were not to be realized, and I was rejected again, but more gently this time. The fact that our friendship has remained so strong despite all of this says a lot. He's known I've loved him since the year we met, but we remain close friends to this day. When he rejected me for the last time, I've finally been able to have peace. Though I'll never know why he never loved me, I was finally able to accept that there was nothing I could've done or could do differently. Right now, I'm in a loving relationship with a fellow percussionist, and I am able to find joy in him, worship and worship drumming, and ragtime piano. With a probable good future in accounting ahead of me, I am content with my life, but, every once in a while, I still weep for you, Femm. I weep for the door that was closed. I weep for the relationship we could have had but will never know. I weep for our unwound--lost--future.