When you are happy and in love, what seems to be is that your perfection is impenetrable.
I took the engagement pictures of a peer today. To say that doing this for Audrey and her fiancée, Michael, was an honor would be a definite understatement. As I am an aspiring photographer, I really could not have asked for a more compliant, easy-going first shoot. Audrey and Michael were happy and nearly perfect.
At the end of the day, I had somewhere close to 560 pictures of the couple in various places on campus and in downtown Bryan. I think it is fair to say that around 90 percent of the pictures had them smiling. As a friend, this is something I could never complain about. Funnily enough, as a photographer, my feelings are exactly the same. Looking back through the pictures now, I catch glimpses of pure, untainted happiness.
To say that I am not jealous of this obvious bliss would be a blatant lie. For those of my readers who know me well enough, you can probably stop reading now. The feelings I have about my own love life (or lack, thereof) are not unknown. Like most things, it is not a difficult feat to learn of my opinions on matters of love.
For those of you who have never had this conversation with me, you are about to get an earful (sure, like that's a surprise, right?).
My views on love are not unique. I want love. I want to be able to say I am in love, and the person I love loves me back with just as much fervor. I want to be a part of a we, not an I.
I know what most of you will say.
"Megan, don't rush it."
"Megan, you will find someone."
"Megan, don't let your life be defined by who you are or are not in love with."
"It will happen for you when you least expect it."
"You will find someone who is perfect for you. Someone who worships the ground you walk on and appreciates you for who you are."
Yeah? Okay. I am not saying that I am an impatient person. I am saying that I want to know what everyone around me has known. My eagerness to learn about things I am unsure of has always been a prominent personality trait of mine. This is also not to say that I am USING love as strictly a learning experience. I want love because I know what it can do for and to the heart and soul. I don't feel incomplete. It is, rather, that I feel like I am part of a whole. A whole that is incomplete.
My "we" has not been found yet. I want my "we." I want that person who will holds hands with me, watch old movies and kiss me on the forehead when I am acting ridiculous. I want that person who wants me, doesn't need me. Wanting is so much more different than needing. I have felt needed, and it is just far too much for one person to handle.
I do not, however, want someone who worships me. Quite frankly, I don't think I am all that spectacular in the first place. I'm loud, I'm crude, I curse like a sailor's mother and I am bossy. That being said, I wish someone would at least give me a chance.
I convinced myself that I was in love once. I had it in my head that what I felt for him had to be real because I had known him for so long before we dated. Oh, how I was wrong. I won't go as far into it as I really, honestly want to, but I have plenty to say about it. My biggest regret in regards to my time with him is that it has changed the way I see him in almost every important way. I no longer see him as my best friend. I see him as that guy I dated who happens to still be hanging around.
Someone has made me feel disposable. I would never wish this feeling on anyone, any day. To feel disposable is to feel as if your purpose in life is irrelevant. I felt irrelevant. I felt used. I felt like my purpose in his life was to be a placeholder for something better.
I am not a pioneer when it comes to confidence, that's for damn sure, but I know I at least deserve more than that. I, at the very least, deserve to be treated as if I matter. I deserve to be treated as if what I have to say affects decisions and thoughts. I don't deserve that feeling, and I sure as hell will not accept that from anyone anymore.
I am a stronger person than that. I have great things to offer someone. If a person cannot appreciate me for that, then they shouldn't matter to me. They shouldn't, but they do.
I have a very difficult time giving up on people. Quite frankly, it causes me a lot more heartache than I am comfortable with. Despite the heartache, however, I continue to give people more and more chances. In fact, they probably get far more chances than they deserve. I wouldn't necessarily say this means I am a glutton for heartache. I just know how much another chance can mean and how much it can change things. Another chance can mean the difference between hate and love.
It might be time to start changing that part of me.
