Lovesick
Humans are prewired to seek out and maintain connections with other people; these bonds are simultaneously the source of happiness and despair. Consider romantic relationships, for example, with their menagerie of complex and volatile emotions. Are people truly content in relationships, or is the stability of a partner more comforting than the deafening silence that accompanies solitude? This paradox is the same for toxic friendships, family members, and workplaces; I feel as though I could compare our species to that of a naïve puppy who crawls back to the man whose hands are stained red. We know who feeds us – right?
Most importantly, I cannot seem to understand how a species that thrives off human connection can be socially awkward or silent. Look around – American society is built for anti-socialization! Our population will go to extremes to ensure that we are not subjected to the cruel social contact of another living being (except for during the Plandemic). Perhaps our discomfort with others mirrors our discomfort with ourselves; we crave connection yet fear the vulnerability it demands.
As my identity develops, I am confronting this contradiction within myself. Why don’t I perform well in romantic relationships? Regardless of love or obsession, I always end up feeling like a caged bird – desperate for connection yet suffocated by it. There’s a certain amount of control one must surrender when entering a relationship; your life becomes subject to the whims of love. It’s intoxicating – until the day you sober up and realize you’re sick.
Maybe that’s the real tragedy of human connection: we spend our lives searching for someone to understand us, only to realize that understanding often comes at the cost of freedom. Love, friendship, and family all require a kind of surrender that feels both beautiful and brutal. I don’t fear commitment as much as I fear being consumed by it. Regardless, I find myself willing to have my heart chipped away at until someone provides me the wind to fly rather than clipping my wings.