The Castle Walls

When I was younger, I mean younger than I am now because I know I'm not that bloody old, I used to fall in love with characters in books. No kidding. That's how isolated I was. Sherlock Holmes, Walter Blythe, Adam Dalgliesh, Rupert of Hentzau. I knew in my heart one day there would be someone like that out there for me - wickedly intelligent, dreamy, poetic, strong, maybe slightly mad. Someone with whom I could discuss Hardy, or crazy theories of evolution, or our favourite X-Men while cuddling on the couch. Someone who would be so amazed by me, and me by him. Who makes me strong, and whom I can believe in. An equal.

I have yet to meet this equal, of course. Probably because he doesn't exist. I have yet to date a man who doesn't put physical beauty first, either. And I have yet to come out of a relationship like that without feeling degraded and second rate. They court me because I am pretty, but when we are finally together, there is always someone prettier, someone better or smarter. Always someone to be compared with. Maybe I am unlucky, or maybe all men are like that.

So I spend my relationship afraid that I will never be good enough. Afraid that they're just here because they're waiting for someone else. I ask my friends, Am I right to be afraid? Are these insecurities founded? Am I being too much like Angelina Jolie? I ask so many questions, hoping in some way that my friends can fix my problem. And they say the things friends say, Don’t be silly. You’re being ridiculous. Anyone would be lucky to have you. Really? I haven’t met this person yet. Or maybe I did, but I felt he wasn’t good enough for me.

And I hate feeling this way. I hate being the kind of girl who doesn't feel good enough, or pretty enough or smart enough. The one who's always wondering if he's off somewhere else with someone else, or holding me and wishing I was someone else. Every little thing bothers me, stays with me, and in my mind I pick at it like a scab, never letting it heal. It's pathetic, and I know I am so much better than that. And it is so frustrating because there’s this huge dissonance between what you think of yourself and what you think your partner thinks of you. And it’s disgusting, because as shallow as I like to pretend I am, I have never put physical beauty as number one, or two, or even seven on my list of criteria. And here I am trying to cater to someone else’s sense of ideal. Hypocrite.

When I was single, I was never like this. I never had to wonder if I was 'enough' for anyone, I felt happy, and satisfied. I was enough for me. I felt like every little thing I did was a small achievement for myself. Now I feel like I'm holding up a candle to a roaring fire. Occasionally, I feel like a fool.

But the point is, I guess (not sure I have a point), is not the relationships, but my own insecurities. I have to fix them, or I will never be happy; as long as I have them everything becomes magnified, everything becomes a portent of doom. And now that I know what it’s like to be in love, everything hurts even more.

Actually, I didn’t mean to be so emo. It’s Trinna’s fault, she linked me to some chick’s blog. I honestly just wanted to write a review on Castle Seasons 1 and 2.