An Entry, But Not From Today

“Representing Everything I Hate to Love”

I know that it’s illogical; I try not to talk about the matter too much, while it’s never actually not on my mind. I know that what I’ve always looked for in a girl isn’t what I actually want, but rather what I’ve been taught to want. I’ve been taught to not look below the surface, and to base my wants on just what I think a person is about... and my entire life up to now (and undoubtedly beyond) has been based around this focus. I’ve spent months, years of my life lusting after the mere idea of beauty, what I perceive to be beauty, all along not knowing what I really want. I get the idea in my head, having met someone, that, based only on their looks and mannerisms, they might be someone whom I could connect with. Invariably, I discover that these very same have nothing to offer me... yet I nonetheless feel the need to continue my efforts to somehow coerce them into a frame of mind that mirrors my own, which would in turn cause them to see some sort of value in my own being.
And invariably, I fail to do so. The initial idea is that this would cause some sort of negative impact to myself, likely in the form of a general lack of belief in my own abilities, a lack of faith in what I am capable of. Instead, it’s taught me. I’ve slowly, slowly become more aware that those whom I am initially interested in, due to what I‘ve been led to believe is what I should look for, are incredibly unlikely to actually be someone I can connect with. The obvious response to this would be to look for someone who doesn’t fit exactly into the classic mold of what is beauty, and instead to try to find one with whom I can still feel a slight connection, but because of their not being the same as all the other candidates might somehow offer me something unique, and thus something worth giving all of my waking efforts in order to achieve.
And, because of how easily this idea came to mind, I have given it various tries in years past. Unsurprisingly, my attempts have ended the same way those before them did: failure, as much in my ability to choose a possible mate as in my ability to help this other realize my merits. Initially it seemed because of my own inability to spot someone that features a personality so different from what the media purports to be what I want that they might be worth my time. As I looked into the matter, I came to the realization that what I’ve been looking for isn’t what I actually want. And actually, I was unsurprised to discover this; I’ve known all along that the girls I’ve been interested in haven’t been the same type of people that I would actually make friends with, but somehow this knowledge didn’t spur me to change my criterion for possible dating material.
Now, having consciously made this realization, I’m forced to make another, equally as real: It doesn’t matter. I know that I don’t actually want what I strive for, but at the same time it’s become too far imbedded into my being that I can’t help it. I’ve been brainwashed by the world I was born into, by videos and images and stories, that what I want and what I need to lead a life worth living ends with a preconceived idea of beauty. All other things in life become background to the ever-present search for an acceptable partner, whether it be conscious or unconscious at the time.
So I’m forced to continue in the way that I have, and in doing so I’m forced also to deal with the bullshit of relationship related drama. Having invested enough time and thought into any individual that I might consider myself ‘interested’, as soon as things seem to be looking up some outside force beyond my reach intersects and causes everything to fall apart, turning that which I once cared about into the embodiment of my hatred for the way I view the world. It’s only after I’ve found the will to ignore the lust that I understand once again that the interest I invested was not deserved.

It really is just generally frustrating that I could care so much about someone and end up in a situation that isn’t in my favor, yet at the same time seems all too familiar to me, and all along I’ve known that it would be the only possible end.


[Written in my Junior year of high school, this entry represents who I was, while the changes I have since experienced and - as suggested above - learned from represent the growth of just one individual, both internally and externally. It was easier to find logic in frustration in those days; now, as I find myself forced to recognize the illogic of monocausal personal problems - indeed, any problem - I am further forced to continue my efforts to better myself, rather than simply seeking and finding the simplest end. Also, I'm very bad at maintaining anything I postulate for myself. So, Jr. Year Me, funny how that worked out eh?]