Once upon a time, during my early teenage youth, my heart and mind darkened with chaos and confusion. Like most people my age at that time, I was discovering aspects of myself that I never knew when I was a child. I remember feeling a profound sense of loneliness and social rejection from the opposite sex. There wasn't a "traumatic moment" that I could cite as evidence; this was something I came to understand through intuition. I saw others in relationships, holding hands in the hallways at school, sneaking a kiss here and there, and glowing with the knowledge that their partner was going to be with them in between classes and at lunch. I saw that and it awakened something deep within myself; I wanted that too.
I know it sounds trivial, but such were my experiences. I wanted to meet some girl in between classes and sit with her and her crew at lunch time. I wanted to hold hands with her in public -- unashamed, and I bet sneaking in a kiss here and there with her would be interesting! It sure looked like other people enjoyed doing that! But such was not in the cards for me during that time in my life. Perhaps I wasn't tall enough or muscular enough. Maybe the fact I wore glasses meant I was a nerd. Maybe I didn't have any confidence in myself and went unnoticed to most females. Loneliness grew into bitterness over time, and my search for companionship was met with frustration, envy, and greed.
I frequently remember hearing the word "love" being tossed about. I overheard a few girls talking about how they loved how 'Jeremy' walked and how he dressed. He was funny and cool and, apparently, could do no wrong. Jeremy was "fine," and the currency of his sexuality was accepted in most places it seemed. This insight into young females taught me that boys are just as much on their minds as they are on our minds. I wondered if girls thought about me and talked about me similar to how I heard them giggle and carry on about Jeremy. The short answer was no. Girls would approach Jeremy and would begin a conversation with him. He had to nothing other than exist to get their attention. I, on the other hand, was reliable when they needed a pencil or an extra sheet of paper. Or perhaps they needed to copy my homework before class. Good 'ol reliable me always did his school work. And this made me useful to them. Being useful does not translate to any degree of sexiness.
No one ever sat down with me and discussed how my emotions would begin to evolve. No one ever discussed the meaning of love with me. And no one told me about how love might be abused or the about darkness that sometimes accompanies love.
It was up to me to figure out what 'love' was.
Other than hearing this word associated with Jeremy (and his body), I had no real idea as to what 'love' was. While flipping through the radio, I found that one of the local radio stations played love songs from radio host Delilah, and I figured that if I listened to the content of love songs, I would get an idea about what love was.
In retrospect, this was a mistake.
Love songs tend to be about longing, yearning, and seeking to find a missing piece to one's emotional puzzle. I remember thinking while reading Rollo May's Love and Will in college that the book would have been most useful to my younger self. Don't get me wrong: love songs have their place, but without life experience and without the guiding hand of a concerned adult, love songs add to the confusion of youthful searching and understanding. Some of the things I've learned about love since the time of chaos and confusion in my youth have been discussed in previous blog post, "What it means to love in 5 points."
But there is no turning back the hands of time. The frustration and loneliness that I felt all those years ago helped to shape to the man I was to become. What I could not experience through interaction, I dissected and researched. Love did not find expression through a kiss or through holding hands or through attending dances -- love was something to understand. Feelings of loneliness were something to be understood.
In my search, I wrote poetry and short stories. Writing forced me to put into words the feelings swarming inside me. Writing forced me to articulate my thoughts. I still have many of my writings from 8th-12th grade. I'll share with you something I wrote many, many years ago. (I wrote it as a poem originally, but I'll write it out as a paragraph.)
Love toys with our hearts, plays with our heads, distorts reality, and soothes our beds. A game of chess played since long ago, move and counter move, depending upon other's show. A game of guess, for each sees love different. Where one weeps, one will never lament. Love rises on pedestals, perfect in hopes, our dreams, yet, human perfection? Never what it seems. Disguised as friendship, it creeps into our lives, candle lit dinner, roses, candy. Promises and lies. Her eyes, her lips, her hair, her smile, her laugh, her scent tell to "seize the moment," but she gives no hint. Does her mystery, her uncharted body, fascinate you? If you only knew... Her curves! His tone! Finally! Together alone! Witness "friends" test what their bodies can do! Then see "new love" turn from red to blue. Surely, love must be more, but, no one will believe -- The lonely heart wishes for what the broken heart knows.
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