Beyond Others

My biggest struggle currently is learning who I am outside of everyone I love. My ex-boyfriend’s favorite band also became mine. My favorite shoes -Doc Martens- were introduced to me by my best friend. Collecting trinkets like Sonny Angels is a hobby of mine because a dear friend of mine collected them as well.

“I am a museum of everyone I’ve ever loved.”

What a beautiful way to live. Gathering all my favorite things about my favorite people and becoming them. I feel closer to them, easier to be loved by them. The hardest part, though, always comes. People never stick around, and now you’re stuck with all these beautiful interests of yours (more theirs), and it’s just a reminder of who they were.

You can’t listen to that song without seeing his face, you can’t wear that perfume without smelling her hair, you can’t put on that cardigan that you kept from them- it’s all a painful reminder of their absence. It’s not always a negative emotion; sometimes the painful reminder makes you appreciate how wonderful it was to experience loving someone so much. However, the hardest part is learning what YOU really like outside of those you love. If he never showed me The Strokes, who would my favorite band be? If I never tried on her Doc Martens that one time, what shoes would I be putting on my feet every morning instead? What other objects would I be collecting? There’s absolutely no harm in any of that. I’m glad such wonderful people inspired me to love what I do; it all helped me to become who I am today. My problem, however, is that sometimes I’ll completely lose myself in someone else if I do this. For the past 3 years, I unknowingly became the person I loved the most. Every show I watched, artist I listened to, the clothes I wore, the way I spoke, the food I ate, the jobs I chose, every little aspect about myself revolved around what this person liked—especially my appearance. I became obsessed, I was no longer a museum of everyone I loved. I became a monster, desperate and starving for their love. I’d spend hours on end analyzing the women they followed, the posts they left flirtatious comments on, and studying what they looked like. How they did their hair, and the amount of makeup on their beautiful faces. How they took selfies, and how they wore less clothes. I was no longer just disgustingly obsessed; I was envious and insecure. It got to the point where I’ve stopped recognizing myself or remembering what I even liked before I met them. I look the way that I do because the women they were thirsty for looked like this, cut their bangs really short like this. Tattooed their soft, blank skin until you could barely see their arms. Wore long, thick eyeliner and had plump, overlined lips. When someone asked me what my favorite food was, my answer was theirs. My current playlist was theirs, my hobbies were theirs. Hell! I even started watching anime! If you had told 17-year-old me that my almost 21-year-old self was defending a die-hard anime fan, I would’ve laughed in your face. I have no clue who I am anymore without this person. My love for feeling closer to someone through their interests became a complete disgusting obsession and a need to be loved. I needed to be everything they were interested in and more. I needed to be a clone of this person so they could lovingly look at me and think:

“Wow, we have so much in common. This is my person.”

This led me nowhere. I completely lost myself trying to get someone to love me, want me, desire me. I wanted them to be infatuated with me. In reality, nothing I did, nothing I forced myself into liking, no changes I made to my appearance, made this so. It pulled this person closer, and to my understanding at the time, we had fallen in love. This person I idolized and, in part, became was now my lover. The first month was a beautiful high like no other. I finally felt like it all paid off, and we were one. We were whole— until we weren’t. I found out a few months later that he was cheating on me, and the girl he cheated on me with, oh, how I instantly became obsessed with her. I wanted to be her. I wanted tattoos that filled my body. I wanted black hair and more piercings. I wanted him to want me the way he wanted her. I wanted to know her deeply and personally to understand. I wanted to analyze her mind and her soul. I wanted to know what her voice sounded like and all her interests. I wanted to know her better than he ever did. I needed to understand what was in her, who she was, why she was, all just to understand what I am not. I just wanted to understand what I didn’t have that he craves. What he thirsts for so deeply that he’ll destroy and damage what we had for. I needed to figure out what he was willing to disregard, neglect, lie, and cheat for. I changed and changed and changed, trying to get him to love me the way I craved. I couldn’t leave him because I had become so invested at this point that I had no idea who I was outside of him. I didn’t know what I liked. Being freshly 18 and extremely impressionable -especially with someone 6 years older than myself- had molded me into a monster by the time I was already about to be 21, I felt pathetic and stupid. I was disappointed in myself for being in the position I was just to be loved.

Here’s the kicker— as of yesterday, he’s no longer in my life.

It took me a really long time to get myself out of this cycle. A really long time, and I’m finally not afraid to discover who I am outside of someone else. I turn 21 in 14 days, and I’m scared shitless. This is the first time since I was 18 that I didn’t already have my interests laid out for me. I can’t believe I let myself be so lame. I told you I only ever learn the hard way! I’m glad it’s over, and that I don’t feel the need to revolve my life around the need to be loved anymore, and I feel free enough to learn who I truly am- to have such a fresh slate. I finally get to discover myself beyond others.

I’ve bled so much, and now I’m finally able to bloom.

song recommendation: Graceland Too - Phoebe Bridgers