I realized – or rather, remembered again – that broken people have a tendency to attract other broken people. We find them. We become friends with them. We fall in love with them.
And I think I’m okay with that.
My boyfriend right now… he’s wonderful. Really, he is. He’s sweet and crazy and thoughtful. So what’s the problem, right? Well, honestly… he’s just not broken enough.
Yeah, his life hasn’t been perfect. Yeah, he’s heard his parents fight – once. Yeah, he and his sibs don’t always get along – but they still talk. Yeah, he’s been down before – but never depressed.
And so, as much as we click on a lot of levels, there’s an entire part of my life, of who I am and who I’ve been and what I’ve gone through, that he’ll just never understand.
I’ve tried talking to him about stuff before. But when you haven’t gone through the fire, it’s hard to know how to soothe the flames. If you’ve never been drowned, you can never really understand the need for air.
He doesn’t understand that sometimes knowing the answer doesn’t help. He’s still able to approach problems with an everything’s-going-to-be-alright kind of faith that I have lost. Even when I am doing well, when my depression brain isn’t the one doing the thinking, it’s hard for me to be sure that everything’s going to work out. There’s a level of distrust that I carry with me now, a cynicism about the God and the universe that I believe in.
And so I find myself starting to squirm. For I can never achieve the same level of comfort with life that he has. I can never achieve the same level of comfort with him. But I try to tell myself that give it time, and maybe you’ll fall in love. Just try your hardest, honey, not to fall out of like in the mean time.
But I feel like I know in the end I’m just kidding myself. I have been in love before. I know what it looks like. And to a certain extent my heart is still taken by some of those broken people that I have loved. If I’m honest, really it boils down to one broken person in particular, right now.
So I know that really, I am just faking it. Faking it and hiding it and hoping that my current boyfriend won’t notice too soon that I don’t think we have the real thing.
For I am finding that while boys may come and go, scars are forever.