Well, not really; I'm just listening to an absolutely brilliant Elliott Smith song (I'm going through an Elliott phase). I haven't been in love with anyone for a while now, actually. And I use the term "in love" loosely, because I'm sure every person reading this at the moment is going to be thinking in their heads that I'm just a teenager that can't experience any emotion other than lust, and that everything I think is just a phase. To them, I confidently say: whatever.
Actually, what is love?* Webster's dictionary defines as the act of removing weeds from one's garden. I mean uh, yeah.
*Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more.
ANYWAY: Yeah, if you feel strongly for someone, you "love" them, and then after a long time, things don't work out and you don't love her anymore, does that mean you never loved her to start with? It's like...if you keep the emotion going forever, it's love. If you then stop loving them, it means it was just lust or you really really liked them or whatever. I see this a lot with people, people that say "I thought I was in love, but now I know I wasn't." How does that really make sense? I mean, sure, it might to other people, but to me it's the equivalent of saying "Yeah, I thought I loved Ok Computer, but I don't like it anymore so I never loved it". I just think it's a pretty stupid thought, but it's a pretty mainstream thought. I've thought it, but now I've realised I shouldn't cancel out what I used to think. Why the hell should I say "I didn't used to think this" when I DID. It's like telling someone else how they feel about something, it's just annoying. Hmm, I wonder what people will think of this blog. Hopefully they'll forget it in five minutes, but they'll probably say "Hey look, Jack's displayed his quite frankly comical understanding of the human mind once again!" or something. Oh well.
Dunno how personal to make this blog. I'm in a mood, currently, where I don't really care about what I write, but I think I'll hold back the major stuff, like names. Because I know that if I was stupid enough to write a blog about this subject with names, I'd fuckin' beat the shit out of myself (this bit's just added for colour) tomorrow morning. I'll just write stuff anyway.
I confidently say that I've loved 3 people in my sixteen years of life so far, and rather conveniently at the different stages in my life: Primary school, secondary school, and, for lack of a better term, Brit school. None of them ever turned into anything, which isn't surprising, because I've never told anyone that I've loved (in that way) that I love them (in that way). That's not to say they didn't find out (even though, the last two didn't), because the person I loved in primary school found out, because my friends were stupid kids that told people my secrets the second I reveal them, haha. And in typical me fashion, I distanced myself from her completely, as to avoid confrontation. This blog is reminding me of Dom's blog from 2007, both in that I'm being more personal than I'm used to, and that we both hate confrontation.
Secondary school girl, I'm pretty confident she never found out. I mean, I never made any obvious attempt to even show her subtly, and the people that I told when I said I liked her were pretty damn surprised. The only way she could have found out is if, again, my friends couldn't keep their mouths shut. I don't think that happened, though. Brit person...dunno if they found out. I never told her, but. Yeah. Hopefully she didn't.
I think the reason I've never told anyone that I love them is that yes, I hate confrontation. It's like...asking someone to make a judgement of you, right there and then...and then there's the fact that if it all went wrong, it wouldn't be a horrible moment, it would be a series of awful moments because, surprisingly, people talk to eachother. I'm too annoyingly cautious of what people think of me to open up to the possibility that I like them a lot more than they could ever like me. So instead of finding out, I'll think about how I really want to find out until that thought fades away. Well, not so much the thought (because I remember the thought) but more the emotion.
All I do with myself is think, I think and then let my surroundings change, and think about how the surroundings have changed, and that I'm a fuckin' idiot. Oh well, it's me. Fuck not being me.