Love, what a horrible feeling. I have, during these 25 years of my life, felt the terrible feeling of unreciprocal love 4 times. 4 times have I tried, and 4 times have I failed. There have been women, however, who’ve felt warm feelings towards me. I’ve just been too blinded by love towards another to see it. And now it is too late.
A friend just confessed that she had fallen for me during our year at Alkio-opisto, a special kind of school that only lasted for a year, apparently I am smart, handsome and musical; and she wasn’t the only one as S– also confessed this some time ago. And now it is too late.
I recently destroyed the relationship to one of my oldest female friends. How absolutely asinine of me. I should have kept my peace, and suffered in silence. I lied to her, as she asked how long I had felt these feelings: “not for long”, when, in truth, I fell for her almost immediately after meeting her.
When I met her she was together with one of my best friends, so I had to stay back. After they broke up I decided to still stay back, as I didn’t think it was proper for me to start doing anything towards her in her time of “grief”.
Quite quickly she found a new man for herself, a complete douche (back then, at least), so, again, I thought it proper for me to keep back, as I think it is wrong for anyone to start something with a person already in a relationship.
There was this one night, though; they had almost broken up by then, and we were dancing she and I, to the tune of some slow, romantic song. I dared to kiss her gently on the cheek, and if I remember correctly she returned that kiss. I was just about to kiss her properly when he arrived. I didn’t know what the situation was, so I retreared, let them talk it through. It was not proper for me to stay there with her. Later I found out that she had waited for me in the cab they took. So maybe, just maybe there was a chance for me, for us. But probably not.
She had met her current significant other when she was together with this douche, at least that’s the story I’ve surmised, and, indeed, they are still together. Have been for a while now. And he’s a great guy, and I don’t want to think anything but good health and shit for them. They seem happy together.
Yet I do. I hope for the worst for them. In fact, I hope nothing but the worst for all those 4 women I’ve loved. I am an incredibly bitter man. I spend all my days ruminating for the end of their relationships, or, conversely, the start of mine with one of them. This is not the “dark and brooding” kind of rumination, the sexy kind that is, but indeed a bitter, almost hostile type of ill-will.
My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone. In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have countless times, in just about every act I’ve committed—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing.