Thursday, April 28, 2016

Baby, you're a dream but a nightmare

He's Korean, 6 ft tall, 180 lbs, has two chest tattoos, and packs heavy.

He's the man of my dreams.

But he really isn't.

I thought he could be. I thought he was what I wanted. He fit the description, he fit the dream.

He was exactly what I had been hoping for, begging for, praying for, all these years.

But he really wasn't.

I thought, that being with him, I would feel proud, and happy. That I would finally be content.

He was so nice, and caring, and interested in me, and that's all I needed, right?

You know the answer to that one.

Because the problem with dreams is that they aren't reality; they're filled with assumptions, and creations of the mind, imaginary features and storylines and mythical characteristics which, in reality, do not exist.

He's beautiful, he's gorgeous, and he wants me.

But I don't want him.

I don't want him, because he's rough around the edges. Because he does, without thinking, without considering who I am, what I want. Because his ideals and morals are completely misaligned to mine, in a innate, immovable way. Because he cares about himself, so much more than he could about me, and because he's misguided. I've lead him astray. He believes that, in me, he will find that docile, sweet, submissive, cute, demure Asian girl, who'll give in to his every demand cheerfully, who'll comply with his way of life, and his style of thought.

But like I've always said, it's just my eyebrows.

I'm not that girl, and honestly, I don't think that girl exists. But either way, I'm not the one he's looking for, and neither is he the one I'm looking for.

So maybe I went into this the wrong way.

Maybe I need to stop searching for a dream.

Maybe I need to start searching for reality.

Nihilism

There's gotta be something wrong with me.

I've always lived in this state of uncertainty when it comes to guys, always. And I'm not sure when it started, but at some point in my life, I stopped trusting them. Nothing they do makes me feel secure, and everything they say sounds like a lie to my ears. I don't know how to trust, I don't know how to believe, because everything, all the sweet nothings, sound exactly like that.

Nothing.

It all sounds so fake, like a set up, a predetermined script that they're reading off of, just to get into my pants. And then, once they've achieved that, it's gone. No more adoration, no more excessive declarations of love and admiration. All, gone.

But does it disappear because of them, or because of me? Does my temperament shift, after I've been with them? Do I stop trying as hard as well? And if so, why? Is it because I'm afraid, because I'm terrified of the idea of showing them my true self, of being actually devoted in them?

Because I'm afraid, maybe, that they don't actually want me?

It sucks. It sucks, because I do know why I deal with people like this. I do it, because growing up ugly and fat fucks you up. I do it, because for the longest time, I was that girl who literally people would laugh about over the idea of dating. I wasn't attractive, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many diets I went on, no matter who I hung out with, what I wore, how much I tried to relate to others.

At the end of the day, all I got was a "Wow, Liyan, you're actually pretty cool. I'm glad we're friends."

Over these years, I've changed. Internally, yes, but more so externally. I learned how to be hot. I learned how to be desired. I learned how to take pictures at the right angles so guys everywhere would have to hold there breath not to explode. I'm a pro now, at portraying myself as something else.

Something beautiful.

Except I'm not. Because on the the inside, I'm basically the crummy old executive of a corporation, a tired, angry curmudgeon, trying to push out their product: my face, my body. I date guys not because of who they are but because of the achievement I get out of it; I date guys who are way more visually attractive than me but whose personalities don't align at all with mine just so I can prove that I am hot, that I am worthy, because I can date good looking people, and because good looking people are attracted to me.

What happened to my self worth? Do I even have any self worth? Or is it just a vicious cycle of me, trying to appease my inner demons by showing the people from my past that I'm now supposedly better than what they saw me as in the past?

All I want, is for all the boys who laughed with their friends behind my back in middle school, for all the boys who made my life a living hell, for all the boys who asked me to tell my friends that he thought they were cute, to fucking realize that I am attractive.

Because all of those situations, situations where I was stepped over and pushed aside, have left me in a position now where I have to find external validation of my appearance.

And the problem with that, is that I find these guys who are only really interested in my appearance. Or, even if that's not the case, that's how I see it, because that's all I can assume. Because why date me now? Why only pursue me now, after I've gotten pretty on the outside?

Why didn't anyone want me back then, if I've always been the same on the inside?