How do you explain to someone that you prefer the comfort of sadness?
You don't.
Every time I saw someone preaching about how being positive changes your life for the better, I shrank. I felt like it was bullshit.
Being a pessimist prepared me for the better. I was read to get disappointed. Every single time.
In school, before a test, in relationships, before an interview, before making a new recipe. I was ready.
People say you don't really find love. You choose it. And I feel like that's the saddest thing I have ever heard.
My first relationship started in 11th grade, I was sixteen, thinking I had it all figured out. Be pretty, be funny, be interesting. That was about it. That's all that was expected of me.
That relationship ended terribly, of course. As all teenage relationships do. But it felt like the end of the world to me.
My first relationship had me turning into another person. I changed my hair, my personality, my interests. Everything. Just to appeal to a boy who just that. A boy.
After the relationship ended, I had lost myself. Forever. I still feel like I'm sixteen. Lost and confused, trying to find myself.
But that's how humans are right? We evolution. We change and grow, not with age but with knowledge.
Right after I graduated from high school, I met "the one". He was sweet, funny, kind, extremely considerate and thoughtful. He was perfect. That was the problem.
I was still broken, I was still an insecure girl. I still had a bleak outlook on the world. I just wanted to be left alone. But again, loneliness is a funny thing.
I forced myself to like him. I forced myself to like his gummy smile, and bubbly personality. The way he made funny voices and stayed at home. I forced myself to like all these things that everyone said was right.
I mean the guy was perfect. I told myself over and over again.
I remember my graduation, walking alongside strangers who didn't even recognize me. Who bullied me for an entire year because my ex lover told everyone I was a sensitive bitch.
Not a scared girl who just wanted to be loved. But we can't expect much from teenage boys.
The summer had just started and I had no friends to hang out with. Zero. My parents forbid me from going out, or having a summer job. I was forced to stay home, while being berated for having no life.
I couldn't get over the boy who took my virginity in 5 minutes and left my house without a goodbye.
I felt alone, but it wasn't a new feeling. No. It felt like coming home. Like a warm embrace.
Then he arrived. James.
James was the exception of the male specie. While I got sexual texts from strangers, he sent me a text calling me pretty.
"Hi. Just wanted to say you were really pretty. Is that okay?"
I re-read the text almost a hundred times, and my knee-jerk reaction was to cringe. What type of guy asks if it's okay to give an innocent compliment to a girl?
That's what I first thought. But I slowly realized no one had asked me for my permission on anything.
It started with a single text.
We spent the first few months speaking back and forth, calling for hours and hours. At that age, that seemed healthy. I mean, we spent every hour together. Talking on the phone and having a good time.
He was perfect.
He made me feel seen, we never argued, and he made me feel confident. Up-lifted.
Yet I wasn't happy. I didn't like him. I wasn't attracted to him. Or his personality.
While I was bland and blank, he was lively and cheerful. Friendly. Too friendly.
He was light and I was dark. That's how it felt. I felt lonely again.
And it went on for a year like this. I felt miserable. While James felt like the king of the world. He started getting cocky, overly confident.
I had built up a man who didn't deserve it. I slowly realized he was easy going. The type of man who will tell you he loves you, and send you sweet texts yet you get no reaction from it.
It was constant, the sweet messages and the compliments. To the point, they held no meaning.
I wanted the love from the novels I read. Soul crushing and intense. I wanted a love that made me feel whole. Alive. That made my veins burn and breathless.
James was the opposite. While he was a good boyfriend, he didn't give me a thrill. There was no tension. There was nothing.
So I started being mean, I started giving him sarcastic comments which only got him sad. Like a fucking puppy. So I was left apologetic and comforting him.
Then the guilt started. It was a deep feeling in my belly the size of Russia. Large and heavy. Every time he gave me a compliment, I recoiled. I felt disgusted. I started resenting him.
I didn't believed I loved him anymore. But he loved me so dearly, I couldn't break it up.
I started waiting for the moment he messed up. An excuse. A way out.
It started with a girl I found on his social media. He was a very private guy. The perfect guy. Almost no followers and a tight friend group. Truly the perfect boyfriend.
But I saw the girl. They had no friends in common. So I asked him about her.
"She's just a friend I met online. I got introduced to her by one of my friends. Remember Jacob? Yeah, he introduced me to her." He said calmly over the phone, his voice steady.
"I just find it weird that you had to be-friend her. When did you meet her?" I sighed, rubbing my forehead.
"About 5 months ago, why?" His voice was calmed, as if there was nothing wrong hiding a girl from me.
"And it never crossed your mind to tell me that you made a new friend?" I mumbled, gritting my teeth so hard I was scared they would break.
"You never really cared about my friends like that, babe. You barely ask about them."
His response made my eye twitch and I exploded, the rage building up for almost a whole year. "Are you fucking serious, James? I always ask about your friends. Most of the times, you're with them. I always ask. Always." My voice rose to an irritable tone, my frustration showing through.
He simply sighed over the phone, giving me a moment. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't understand why you're upset about her though. You don't trust me?"
"No. That's not my point at all. My point is that you hid the fact you met her. For five months. Which makes you look suspicious." I responded, trying to keep calmed.
He had apologized, why was I still so upset?
I realized I wanted him to mess up so badly, just so I could find a way out. I wanted out from this boring relationship that made me feel more and more alone.