Journal Entry of a Young Woman

A first person perspective of a woman undergoing unrequited love

I don't know how to describe my current mental state. In a word, I'm overwhelmed. I remember thinking to myself, "I'm completely, genuinely over him." Now look where that's gotten me. 

It appears the nausea I felt when I was around him was simply butterflies on crack cocaine and not my repulsion of him. Oh, how I wish I was repulsed by him! I've determined I cannot physically handle how wonderful he is, but I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. He has attracted quite the following of women. 

I, unfortunately, have too fallen victim to his kindness. 

He laughs at my jokes. He listens. He's respectful and asks engaging questions. He has a light in his eyes. And when he smiles at me and looks away abashedly, how am I supposed to handle the stopping of my heart? the pit in my stomach? the red that rushes to my cheeks? 

My body betrays me, an all-too-truthful indicator to the outside world of my inner feelings. 

I have come to a most harrowing conclusion: I truly think he is the person in this world that is most ideally suited for me. But I don't think I would be right for him. 

I don't know if I can ever love another person the way I love him.

Maybe my knowledge of this is just how I can love him. I can appreciate him from afar and be grateful to have an impact on his life, but by understanding that I'm not the one for him, I relinquish him to a better life. 

What greater love is there than granting someone their fullest desires by giving up your own?

I hate loving someone to this extent. I hate knowing that pursuing of him would be selfish. I've always been the determined type, ready to fight for what I want to any degree. But loving him is giving up my right to fight for him. 

How do I go on from here? Do I truly think there's such a thing as "meant to be" and it just so happens that someone made a clerical error along the way? I've been made to love someone who is completely and utterly perfect for me, but someone else is destined to complete him. Not me. 

There has been a grave miscalculation at my expense. 

He showed me music that made me cry. He made me more comfortable with touch. He imparted wisdom upon me and made me love myself just a little more. He noticed me.

So I don't know what's next. I don't know how to look at other viable options anymore. I feel as though I've arrived at a feast, starving, but the only thing I'm craving is the one food that isn't at the dinner table. 

Maybe I'm simply picky. Maybe I should just "eat" to survive. Because I don't know how long I can live like this, to be so sure that I am unworthy of every kind of love. 

I am beyond certain that I could never deserve him, but that doesn't stave off my desire. 

Author's Note

This is (mostly) an actual journal entry of mine, and I would like to know your thoughts on the internal dialogue. I'm hoping it seems hopeless - I think it could make a good short monologue for auditions of some sort