Everytime I contemplate about a relationship, the biggest concern I have, is a six letter word- belong.
To many, to belong to someone means to be at his disposition, that he owns you. Further, some of them clearly object this thought. The propagators of self esteem, those who defy all odds and stand fast against the idea of being the object of disposal of someone's apparent 'right' over them. The others? The propagators of the ballad of selfless love. The ones that think that their loved ones have all sorts of rights over them. The ones that think love is about being owned. About being the most prized possession to somebody. The passion that reeks of the consuming fire of what they call love, and eyes that lurk amongst the dark of losing yourself in love and it's immeasurable depth.
For the prior, an equation of individuals is what matters, whereas the latter prefer getting lost in the wilderness of love, forgetting all tools, man made, to measure, fathom and to gather the knowledge about anything other than their dear one.
Without being in disagreement with either, I hold a thought process far from theirs.
For me, to belong, means to relate. Without losing your essence, to get lost in someone else, and his habits. For someone else, when asleep, they're just asleep, but when my love is asleep, he is asleep. The sense of relating to every little detail, every intricate embroidery that formulates the enchanting design, I call love.
All my life I was told I am different. Sometimes it was appreciated, sometimes not so much. I was told I had energy unparalleled, sometimes appreciated, other times not. Some people tell me how much they admired me, some said I couldn’t be understood. Ever since I was a child, I was told being different is good. In school, I was told different people tend to make better lives for themselves. In movies, I was shown that the protagonist is always, well, different. These notions influenced my perspective towards life, making me crave the feeling of being different. Having said that, I was never treated like I was different, challenging my notion of me being “different”. However, sometime back I realized that I was never treated like I was different because no one wanted me to know how different I am. Every time something nice happened to me, every time I said something exceptional, people tried to normalize how exceptional these things were. That is when I cou...
Wonderful read!
ReplyDelete