Whenever I talk about my disinterest is romantic love the response is, “awww, who hurt you?” And that's such a fucking annoying thing to say. A broken heart is such a boring excuse for giving up on love and I'm lowkey insulted people think I'm that melodramatic. I have known heart ache many more times than I have known love and still, I would suffer through a thousand more broken hearts to experience just 1 more great love. It's worth it. Every time.
But no, I'm too selfish to ever award the reason for my decision to someone else. My aversion to love is a bit more self centered than broken-heartedness.
The thing about me is, I’m obsessed with myself. In my world, I am the only thing that matters, the only opinion of me that matters, the sound that resonates higher and above all other sounds. I talk about this a lot when explaining why I hate it when other people try to affirm me. No one has the power to change my mind about myself aside from me. If I hate myself and believe that I am ugly, guilty, and unworthy of love, then that’s what I am. When I love myself and think that I’m beautiful and deserve to be worshipped, no one outside of myself has the power to change my mind. In my world, my opinion of myself is not an opinion, it is a fact. Everyone else’s opinions of me are opinions and that people think their opinions of me (be it good or bad) could ever overshadow my facts, is audacious and offensive. Other people’s pride in me is equally as insignificant as their disappointment. No one has the power to affect how I feel about myself besides me. This is just how I operate. This is my natural form.
However, when I am in love (or even really like a guy tbh), everything I just said goes right out the window. When I am in love, the other person’s opinion of me matters. Not to the point where I’m finna like...change or uproot my life or anything but, for me, the fact that it matters at all means it matters too much. When I’m in love, love’s sound resonates higher than my own. And I simply cannot accept that. Even when love is at it’s best, the fact that someone else’s love could make me feel better than my own is unsettling. I don’t want anyone to have the power to make me happier than I can make myself.
And when love ends, as the sound of it starts to dwindle away and my own sound returns to it’s rightful place as the highest frequency, it always returns just a little softer than when it left. While i think love is worth the heartache, it’s not worth losing myself.
There’s a lot of annoying responses I could get to this explanation too; I’m young and my views will change as I get older, I just haven’t met the right person, I have to learn how to love myself stronger, blah blah blah whatever shut up. The thing about romantic love is, it’s not a necessity. It’s not the end all be all and, even if my feelings and views do change, it doesn’t matter either way. I’m gonna be just fine whether I spend the rest of my life with someone or I die alone. I also don’t want to be misconstrued as someone who hates love. I love love, and I miss it violently. But not nearly as much as I miss myself when I’m in it.