“Never opened up to anyone…”
You’re just scared. Hiding in a hole you’ve dug yourself, convincing yourself that if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t exist. There’re so many pot holes in that argument. You exalt the glory of a martyred love; you revel in the Romantic ideal of a great love burning, hidden. There’s something Petrarchan about that, isn’t it? The brave lover, hiding in his ivory tower, burning up inside for his love, but hiding it for the Greater Good.
You’re hiding yours for the fear. As much as you subscribe to the notion of the lovelorn hero, you subscribe too to the idea of the Superman who doesn’t have anything to do with emotions. There’s something almost nihilistically satisfying in that, isn’t there, going through life mechanically, sweeping up accolades like they pass you on conveyor belts, hiding all that pain, all that emotion because if you showed it, you’d be just like them.
That’s no way to live. That’s no way to be human. To be human is be gloriously fallible. To revel in our emotions. To check them with the rationality gifted to us, yes, but to know ultimately what makes us is our emotions, this ability to feel beyond rationality. The very conflicting desires in your heart should convince you they exist. And if you listen hard enough, they should convince you it’s worth it.
Maybe I hide myself in a hole of cheesy love songs. Maybe I’m scared too. Maybe I listen to others’ heartbreak as a form of catharsis because I’m too scared to even sign on to the possibility of that experience. So maybe there’s something we could both learn: like, hey, you aren’t going to live anything real if you hide yourself in your rationality or in someone else’s emotions.
“Right before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever had…”