Can you be crazy if you know that the things you believe in aren’t real? Does that awareness make you not crazy? What if you’ve made a conscious choice to believe in those false ideals because its the only thing that makes you happy?
The person I love, I’ve loved for years. I don’t think my person could’ve made it more clear they didn’t love me back. They started a life with someone else a long time ago. They wont talk to me. They blocked my number and my social media. I haven’t seen my person in more than a year. And yet, there are these things that happened years ago, that made me believe they loved me, and I’ve held onto them ever since. Like “they’re just waiting for the right moment” or “they’re testing to make sure my love is real” and “eventually, by some miracle, you’ll be together, forever”.
I don’t talk to anyone irl about any of this. I’ve tried, in small doses. When they tell me something contrary to what I want to hear, I get angry and cut them out. So I don’t talk about it anymore. I don’t talk about this place. I don’t talk about all the letters I’ve written here. I suppose I could talk to someone, professionally, but honestly I don’t really see the point. I know what they’ll say. I know what all this looks like.
And I know that its not healthy. Leaving my mind and spirit in this fantasy world I’ve created while my body wanders aimlessly to work and back home. The truth is, my life probably started stalling out a long time ago. I mean I’ve accomplished things, some people would say great things, but none of it means anything to me. None of it makes me happy. For a period of time though, from the time I met my person til the time they cut me out of their life for good, I was happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. Sure there was a lot of heartbreak along that road, but just being around them, I cant even describe the way it made me feel. They understood me, they really did, in a way no one ever has. Not my friends, not my parents, no one. Even now after everything its impossible for me to look back and say they didn’t at least care for me to some degree. Maybe it was just being nice, a consolation prize in lieu of unreturnable love. I guess Ill never know. Since my person left my life, no one I’ve met has made me feel anywhere near the same. They say you get one shot at love in life. My tragedy then is falling for someone who couldn’t love me because the way I was born. My gender, specifically. Something I have no control over. And while I doubt they ever think about me, or that if they do it is most likely with dismissive loathing, I have chosen to think of them ever single day. Because thinking about the way they made me feel brings back some of that old happiness. I know Im playing games with my own mind, dangerous games that will likely do more damage than good in the long run. But the alternative is facing the relative nothingness of my existence and accepting that I can never have the only thing I ever wanted more than anything else. I cant do that, Im not strong enough.
So here I am. Am I crazy? You can be the judge. Frankly, I just don’t care.