I Am Real

This is me being an optimist. This is me turning over a new leaf. This is me being open and honest. Honest with myself. This is me asking questions and not being afraid to answer them. This is me, I hope.
Why was I so hurt by her? I mean really, was it her or was it me? Answer: it was me. True, I love her. I was crazy about her (literally, so it would seem). Yes, I would've done anything, given everything for her and yes, in fact, I had very much looked forward to spending the rest of my life with her. I had wanted to spend every day finding new ways to make her happy. I called her my soulmate and I truly believed that. Yes, all that is true. But was I, am I, so delusional that I think she's the only one in the world I can love like that? By my very own explicit definition of love; by my own spiritual and intellectual conception of the word "love", there are few individuals in the world whom we can fully love. That is, with whom we can connect in a unique combination of the mind, body, and spirit. A love that makes greater its constituent parts. A love that improves us as people and through its very being improves the world. A love that connects us with the greater Good and proves to us the existence of God. Thats the love I felt for her. But, as I said, its a feeling that is possible between few people. Yes there are a few, not one.
As much as I loved her, and honestly as much as I still do, she's not my one and only. I must have always known this, but its never been something I was willing to admit. Hell, I'd loved once before, right? Granted, that one was kind of a once in a lifetime occurence but really, what is life but a series of once in a lifetime occurences? And, this is me being an optimist, I know I will love another.
So perhaps the better question is not why did she have this effect on me, but why did I let myself obsess so much over our relationship? I guess the easy answer would be because I obsess over everything. The more complex answer, and perhaps the answer to why I obsess in general, is that I am desperate. I am absolutely desperate for happiness. I am unhappy person. Yes, the depression is new, but I've never been a happy person. I didn't have the best childhood but neither did I have the worst. I am cursed by a malaise of slightly more sucky than average suckiness and it has plagued me my whole life. I'm not happy but every once in awhile I'll come upon someone who makes my life feel real. When I'm around this person I feel safe for once. My paranoia and anxiety goes away. I stop worrying about myself and about the people around me. People no longer seem dangerous or cruel, they're just people. People just like me. They're real and so am I. When I'm around this person my whole existence changes, it becomes significant, it becomes meaningful. The malaise goes away and I'm happy.
She told me that my problem was that I needed to find happiness in other people. She's probably right. For someone who can't stand being around people; who hates strangers, is afraid of crowds, and is annoyed by happy people, it is only through an other that I, myself, can find happiness. No, it isn't healthy, I suppose but its who I am. She thought she was doing me a favor. She told me that I needed to find happiness in myself and I could only do that once She was gone. Hah. Fuck.
This is me being an optimist.