|
 memories of what never was
|
2001-02-11 03:25:16 so yesterday i posted a one page long single spaced rant about how romantic love is nothing but an illusion i like to indulge in. then last night, dan tells me hes falling in love with me. he loves me, he says. and i think "how do you know? how does anyone know?" i think im afraid of falling in love. when i was sixteen i said i was in love with ryan. and i cant go back and say i wasnt. we really were a couple, there was really something there. have i lost it? have i lost some kind of spark? can i blame ross for this? cause those words "i love you" are tainted ever since ive known him. "remember when i said i loved you? i was lying" carve out my heart with a grapefruit knife. cause even though i didnt like him much, and i sure wasnt in love with him, i still cared. if i didnt i wouldnt have gone to talk to dr kohn when i did after he attempted suicided and blamed it on me. "it wasnt so much that we fell in love as my life just seemed to come down to a slow walk on a straight line between her smile and her frown" but anyway. have i lost some sort of sweet innocence that i dont believe in this anymore? should i post this to ichabod? how jaded have i gotten? how boring can i be? do i give less to relationships because i just dont believe in falling in love? do i just say i dont believe because im afraid to fall for someone? and what the hell am i afraid of? losing myself? getting hurt? "Normally, there is nothing of which we are more certain than the feeling of our self, of our own ego. this ego appears to us as something autonomous and unitary, marked off distinctly from everything else . . . but towards the outside, at any rate, the ego seems to maintain clear and sharp lines of demarcation. there is only one state -- admittedly and unusual state, but not one that can be stigmatized as pathological -- in which it does not do this. at the height of being in love the boundary between ego and object threatens to melt away. against all the evidence of his sense, a man who is in love declares that "I" and "you" are one, and is prepared to behave as if it were a fact." Sigmund Freud, Civilization and its Discontents |
