bill.evans
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- Jul 8, 2017
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Hello everyone,
I've always felt the need to speak with someone about my sentimental life, but I feared that they would just laugh at me for being such an inept. I'm in my early 20s, but since yesterday I feel like my youth has had an abrupt end and I am condemned to spending the rest of my life on my own.
Life has always given me too much of what I didn't need: I have many friends, my university marks are very good, my health is good and my family loves me; sometimes I feel bad for not being able to appreciate all of that and being constantly depressed. The root of my suffering resides in my love life - or the lack of it really.
In high school I was the classical introvert guy that does good at school but has scarce socal life; I basically lived in the plot of one of those college-style american movies, being in love with the most popular girl in school. Needless to say, she totally ignored my existence.
After the graduation exams, me and her were selected among the best students for a trip around Europe, and I finally had the occasion to show myself and try to get in touch: as expected, my shyness didn't help at all and we ended up only exchanging a couple of words. Still I wouldn't say it was unsuccesful, as she turned out to be very kind and open to me.
Things changed dramatically the following summer when, thanks to having some friends in common, we found ourselves going to Spain toghether. As we were vising the city of Seville, we found ourselves separated from the group: I was very surprised of the fact that she didn't look bothered by this fact, and in fact we ended up visitng the city toghether. After a while, she asked me if I would join her going back at the hotel: in total embarassement I refused and proposed to catch up later; I feared that by accepting I would have confessed my feelings. I finally decided to get back to the hotel later that evening and found that she had been waiting for me to go and visit Plaza de Espana: for the first time in my life I felt that someone loved me, and moreover she was the person with whom I had secretly been in love for many years. I felt loved for just being myself, and I will remeber that day as the best one in my life. I was very confused: by accepting the invitation I would have acknowledged the fact that I tought she was in love with me, and that was the only thing I didn't want her to think; how could I, the not-so-good-looking introvert guy, have the arrogance to think that the most popular, beautiful and smartest girl loved me? In this state of total confusion, I just sat in the reception room staring blankly at the wall. She came downstairs, put her hand onto my shoulder but, totally confused, I couldn't even say a single word: probably shocked by my behaviour, she left and went by herself; I cannot tell you how many times I thought about that moment and still I can't realize how I could act so stupidly: I didn't even get up and follow her, I just sat onto that chair. The best day in my life had just proven to be the first one in many months of depression, negativity and alcohol abuse that goes on to this day.
A couple of months later she posted on Facebook a photo that I took of her that day, accompained by the following verses:
"Tristes hombres
si no mueren de amores.
Tristes. Tristes."
(Sad are the men who don't die for love)
That was clearly a message to me, as I was the only one who knew the story behind the photo. Inspite of this fact I thought that getting in touch with her would just make the embarassement and my depression even worst. I found comfort in negation, I just negated every possible proof that she was in love with me. In the following months I met her in a couple of occasions and acted as nothing had ever happened. I sometimes thought about sending her a letter to confess my feelings, but I thought it would be useless.
The proof that this would have been totally useless came yesterday: I recieved an invitaton at hers for her birthday. At first I wanted to decline the invitation as I knew that I would just feel embarassed, but in the end I accepted. When I arrived I found her sitting on the couch next to a very handsome guy, who turned out to be her new boyfriend. I cannot express with words how dead inside I felt: I instantly undestrood what the latin poet Catullus wanted to express in his fomous poem "Ille mi par deo esse videtur" (he looks to me like a God). The only person I have ever loved in my life is lost forever: I came to accept that I will spend the rest of my life by myself. I sometimes cry when I see lovers holding their hand, knowing that I will never have that feeling.
I've always felt the need to speak with someone about my sentimental life, but I feared that they would just laugh at me for being such an inept. I'm in my early 20s, but since yesterday I feel like my youth has had an abrupt end and I am condemned to spending the rest of my life on my own.
Life has always given me too much of what I didn't need: I have many friends, my university marks are very good, my health is good and my family loves me; sometimes I feel bad for not being able to appreciate all of that and being constantly depressed. The root of my suffering resides in my love life - or the lack of it really.
In high school I was the classical introvert guy that does good at school but has scarce socal life; I basically lived in the plot of one of those college-style american movies, being in love with the most popular girl in school. Needless to say, she totally ignored my existence.
After the graduation exams, me and her were selected among the best students for a trip around Europe, and I finally had the occasion to show myself and try to get in touch: as expected, my shyness didn't help at all and we ended up only exchanging a couple of words. Still I wouldn't say it was unsuccesful, as she turned out to be very kind and open to me.
Things changed dramatically the following summer when, thanks to having some friends in common, we found ourselves going to Spain toghether. As we were vising the city of Seville, we found ourselves separated from the group: I was very surprised of the fact that she didn't look bothered by this fact, and in fact we ended up visitng the city toghether. After a while, she asked me if I would join her going back at the hotel: in total embarassement I refused and proposed to catch up later; I feared that by accepting I would have confessed my feelings. I finally decided to get back to the hotel later that evening and found that she had been waiting for me to go and visit Plaza de Espana: for the first time in my life I felt that someone loved me, and moreover she was the person with whom I had secretly been in love for many years. I felt loved for just being myself, and I will remeber that day as the best one in my life. I was very confused: by accepting the invitation I would have acknowledged the fact that I tought she was in love with me, and that was the only thing I didn't want her to think; how could I, the not-so-good-looking introvert guy, have the arrogance to think that the most popular, beautiful and smartest girl loved me? In this state of total confusion, I just sat in the reception room staring blankly at the wall. She came downstairs, put her hand onto my shoulder but, totally confused, I couldn't even say a single word: probably shocked by my behaviour, she left and went by herself; I cannot tell you how many times I thought about that moment and still I can't realize how I could act so stupidly: I didn't even get up and follow her, I just sat onto that chair. The best day in my life had just proven to be the first one in many months of depression, negativity and alcohol abuse that goes on to this day.
A couple of months later she posted on Facebook a photo that I took of her that day, accompained by the following verses:
"Tristes hombres
si no mueren de amores.
Tristes. Tristes."
(Sad are the men who don't die for love)
That was clearly a message to me, as I was the only one who knew the story behind the photo. Inspite of this fact I thought that getting in touch with her would just make the embarassement and my depression even worst. I found comfort in negation, I just negated every possible proof that she was in love with me. In the following months I met her in a couple of occasions and acted as nothing had ever happened. I sometimes thought about sending her a letter to confess my feelings, but I thought it would be useless.
The proof that this would have been totally useless came yesterday: I recieved an invitaton at hers for her birthday. At first I wanted to decline the invitation as I knew that I would just feel embarassed, but in the end I accepted. When I arrived I found her sitting on the couch next to a very handsome guy, who turned out to be her new boyfriend. I cannot express with words how dead inside I felt: I instantly undestrood what the latin poet Catullus wanted to express in his fomous poem "Ille mi par deo esse videtur" (he looks to me like a God). The only person I have ever loved in my life is lost forever: I came to accept that I will spend the rest of my life by myself. I sometimes cry when I see lovers holding their hand, knowing that I will never have that feeling.
