Never Truly Been

by suu4leaf



(Someone said I should write something in English, and so I did, a farewell gift for those who have been and still are true to me. I would be very grateful should anybody read this through to the end, because I know how undeserved I am of this attention. Adieu.)




She thought if he truly did love her, he would read it, and read it to the end, through and through. But she knew that would never be, because she had never truly been loved. That sounded too sad for such a fine young girl like her, to mumble complainingly like a bitter spinster, but it was true, and it hurt her pride to recognize it.

There are all kinds of conspiracy theories. Is there truly a shortage of natural resources, or is there just an extremely uneven distribution of resources? She knew nothing about Mathematical Science, and she was not too keen on Environmental Science neither. She was an Arts student through and through, and for her such a worldly matter she could only look at by the impractical perspectives of Philosophy, in an overtly individualistic manner, through the essentially romantic eyes of an artist. What she felt was true was that whether it was one way or the other, it would still lead to the same conclusion: there is no Justice in this world.

There are all kinds of Justice. Fables and children’s tales create in the young mind an illusion of a certain Divine Justice. Goodness is always rewarded, and Evil always punished. Everyone gets what he or she deserves. Yet that is only an illusion. There is no Divine Justice. When she first encountered Literature, she learnt of the term Poetic Justice. Like God, the Poet imposes his or her will in the work, which becomes Justice. In fables and children’s tales, Poetic Justice is absolute, and it makes us believe that our world is just. But this is not true.

It was just a random incident. It happened that a friend of hers received a gift from her boyfriend, a vintage camera, the same which she had bought herself not long ago. And then she remembered another friend of hers had mentioned how all of her mobile phones were given to her by her boyfriends, and that she never needed to worry about it.

She was more bitter than jealous. Certainly she understood how meaningless it was to make such comparisons. But feelings were not something she could master like she did her reasoning. To compare meant to judge Justice itself. Does everyone always get what he or she truly deserves? No, everything she had encountered told her the otherwise. There were always some people who were more blessed than the others, and she certainly was not the blessed one.

She never cared if a boy sent her any expensive gift or precious token. She never believed in weighing love in monetary terms. She had her earthly desires, but she would not mind if her boyfriend could only afford to bring her to far from fancy canteens, if he knew to order her favourite tea with sweet milk for her. She would not mind if he did not buy her gifts of famous brands, if every little thing he gave was the right thing. She needed not be jealous of her friend who received an expensive vintage camera she herself already possessed. It was not about the precious camera or the expensive mobile phones or any other thing her friends received from their boyfriends. It was something else. She realized, all of a sudden, that she had never truly been loved.

She was a fine young girl, and all through these years she had liked and been liked. But never so dearly loved and cherished like her friends were by their boyfriends. Never such anxiety to make her happy, such fear that any careless or foolish act would hurt her. Somebody who craved for her love, and dreaded the loss of it. Who loved her most devoutly, loved her more than he loved himself. No, she had never been loved this way, by anybody. And this realization broke her heart.

And yet she had loved them so! And she believed they loved her somehow. But now, looking at her friends, she realized that she was not even close to that. Had she ever been in love? Could those be called Love at all? When the two of them sat side by side, she felt his warm presence next to her, sensed his eyes resting gently on her flushed face. Was that not Love?

“You cannot talk of Love before you have been really together with somebody,” a friend of hers once said to her. She felt so offended at the moment. If things did not work out fine between two persons and they never got together, did that mean there was nothing at all? She could not bring herself to believe this. When the feeling is there, it is there. It cannot be refuted. And now she thought of what her friend had said, she thought perhaps there was some truth in her friend’s words after all. Whenever she was touched by a look or a few sweet words, she thought what she felt was Love, when in fact she had never had it in her grasp. Looking at her friends, she realized that if they had truly loved her, they would have wanted her for themselves. They would have wanted to love her and be loved by her, and would have done anything to avoid losing her love. They would have tried their best to make her happy, and would never have left her heartbroken and alone. Nobody had ever loved her that way.

Whenever she met some new acquaintances, she would surprise and even shock them by the fact that she did not have, and had never had a boyfriend. She thanked them in her heart for such strong conviction of her attractiveness as a romantic partner, that it was simply impossible that nobody ever wanted her. Her looks were fine, there were not too many flaws in her character, she had sense and learning, she had training in the Arts and had developed a fine taste for almost everything. She had not much problem dealing with people, she was more often liked than disliked. And from the description of many who knew her, she possessed an air not commonly found in most ordinary girls in town. It was impossible that such a girl could be unwanted. It was not fair even, when so many people who deserved less were better off than her. But it was true, she had never truly been loved.

There were many who liked her, but none of them wanted her, none of them would exchange love for her love. They always said the same things. They were not good enough for her. They were not what she thought they were. They loved her but they only wanted to be very good friends with her. All those things that made no sense to her at all. When at last he let her understand that he preferred his girlfriend over her and would not have her, she thought she had never felt more unwanted. Why would they not want her when they claimed to love her? Why would nobody want her when she was no worse than her friends who were carefully guarded treasures of their boyfriends?

She always thought she would be a great girlfriend, if only somebody gave her a chance to prove it. She never needed a boyfriend to pay for her dinner and shopping expenses, to show off to friends, kill time, or even to marry to in case she became 30 and had not yet found a better husband. She never cared for those things, she was resourceful and self-sufficient in her own right. All she wanted was to be wanted and cherished, by the person she herself wanted and cherished. To truly love and be truly loved. Was that too much to ask for? Did she not deserve to be loved so?

Perhaps it was true that she would always remain beautiful in their memories, a girl whom they had never had. But to her, they would always be the ones who did not want her, who broke her heart by refusing to want her, again and again, and her shattered heart had grown tired and bitter. To other girls, they did all the things a boyfriend would ever do to his girlfriend, and yet they did not even want to hold her hand. Did she deserve this? Her friends all gasped in disbelief, she saw it in their looks and knew she deserved better.

And yet she knew she was not alone. There are so many fine young girls in this city, beautiful, smart, sophisticated, sociable, and yet unwanted. They buy their own vintage cameras, their own mobile phones, their everything. They go shopping, go to the cinema, they travel, all by themselves. Nobody pays for their dinners, takes them to the doctor when they fall ill, escorts them home when it is late at night. They are happily self-sufficient, and yet they wish they were wanted, just like other girls are. Their friends all gasped in disbelief, and perhaps some would even sneer behind their backs. They may as well be very fine young girls, but after all they are just a bunch of unwanted spinsters. She knew better than to be upset at these mean judgements. But why would such thing happen to them? Is there truly a shortage of boys and a surplus of fine young girls in the city, or is there just an extremely uneven distribution of true love among boys and girls? She could only look at this by the impractical perspectives of Philosophy, in an overtly individualistic manner, through the essentially romantic eyes of an artist. What she felt was true was that whether it was one way or the other, it would still lead to the same conclusion: there is no Justice at work here.

Indeed, perhaps in the realm of Love, there is no such thing as Justice. If someone does love you, he or she will just love you, no matter you deserve that love or not. And if someone does not love you, he or she will never give you the love you deserve, no matter how worthy of it you are. One can love someone wholeheartedly, yet it does not follow that one will be loved the same way in return. One can be the most lovable person in the world and yet is never truly loved by anyone. It is possible, because Goodness is not always rewarded, and Love itself is not a reward for Goodness. Love is some random treasure which only a few lucky ones can get. Someone disappoints you, hurts you, breaks your heart, still you can never appeal for Justice nor ask for the Love that person owes you. You cannot ask why you are not loved, because there is no reason for it, just like there is no reason for your not winning the lottery. One can never reason with Love. If it ever happens that both persons devote as much love to each other, they are not getting what they deserve, they are only more fortunate than the others.

If he truly did love her, then he would have read this, till here, through and through. But she knew that would never be, because she had never truly been loved, as she wished and thought herself deserved to be. But one can never reason with Love, and she was just being unfortunate, just like many others were, and hers was no exceptional case. Thus instead of tormenting herself by asking why and seeking Justice which does not exist, all she could do was to shed some tears, accept it as the Truth, and then hope for better luck next time.







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