I Don't Want to be a Masochist Anymore

Today, I finished a novel called Call Me by Your Name by Andre Aciman. It made me realize something... I no longer wish to be a masochist.

When did I become a masochist? I don't know. Perhaps when I first fell in love and got hurt. After that, I probably started to believe that by being hurt I would be loved. I assumed that the person the people men who would hurt me would consequently nurse my wounds as well. Ultimately, I want to be loved. However, I thought being hurt was a primary requirement.

Even when I knew that being hurt was wrong I still chased after those that hurt me. I thought that if they could hurt me, they might also be strong enough to protect me. To love me. I wanted them to take responsibility for me.

I stayed passive. I kept myself weak and compliant. It was what they expected of me. No one else wanted me. They at least agreed to pay attention if I became what they wanted me to be. I was alone. I lost myself. I didn't want to be alone anymore. I was willing to be anything just so I wouldn't be alone.

I convinced myself that I was weak. I told myself countless times that I am worthless, unwanted, and hopeless. I rhetorically asked myself, "For all those that die unjustly, get raped, and beaten, what makes you think God would cater to your desires? Why would God give you someone to love and love you in return?" I would respond to myself and say that I deserve to be loved. But didn't the others deserve to be loved as well? I had no more answers. My mind grows tired every time I ask myself such questions.

I merely saw myself as an instrument for other people's desires. Yes, use me. Yes, abuse me. Just, please, give me time to be desired. I came to see abuse towards myself as sexually arousing. To be dominated over, isn't it exciting? To be pinned to a bed and ravaged by a man stronger than me? For a man to do what he pleases with me, cast me away when he's done, and return only when he wants more? At one point, I thought so... But I know it is wrong. I know that such thoughts were doing nothing more than hurt me. No pleasure. No ultimate benefit. Just hurt.

I made myself worthless.

Perhaps it was inevitable for me to realize that I was irrationally hurting myself. Maybe it was unavoidable for me to accept that I don't want to be hurt by my own self or by anyone else. I learned how to say no to those that only wanted to take advantage of me. I came to acknowledge that I do have worth. I've yet to fully grasp the true breadth of my worth as a person. A person who deserves to be loved. I'm working on it.

Maybe I won't find that one person for me to love and to love me in return. Perhaps we'll find each other too late. It's possible that he may not exist for me. It's a horrible possibility, but it's true. Nonetheless, I still deserve to be loved without hurt. I want to be loved without hurt.

I want a man to be gentle with me. To be passionate with me. To have no intention of hurting me. I want us to be honest with one another in body, heart, and mind. To trust each other with our naked, vulnerable selves and trust that we wouldn't hurt each other. I want to be able to look into his eyes and not see eyes of contempt or cold, heartless, animalistic desire. I want to see the eyes of someone who sees me, acknowledges me, desires me to be a part of him and him a part me, and to experience the highest point of pleasure we could reach together.

I want a man to think of me as his equal. I want him to love me. I want him to allow me to love him. I want someone who sees me as worth protecting as I do him. I want him to help me heal old wounds. I want him to desire me as an intellectual counterpart, an emotional lover, and as a sexual being--as a whole being. I want him to respect me. I want him to be able to say no to me when he knows I'm wrong. I want him to help me learn what is right. I want us to help each other.

I want us to think of each other as equals. I want us to love one another. I want us to desire one another as an intellectual counterpart, an emotional lover, and as a sexual being--as a whole being. I want us to respect each other. I want us to be individuals and not be afraid to say no to one another when we know the other is wrong. I want us to help each other learn what is right. I want us to live, love, and grow alongside one another.

It may be too much of me to ask, but I deserve to at least give myself a chance. 

End of the Year Banquet

Tonight was my study abroad program's end of the year banquet. The food was decent. The venue was awesome. I took some great photo with friends and had a few good laughs. Of course, like any other end-of-the-year, sentimental school function they had superlatives.

A few people I knew said that they voted me for Best Dressed Male. I was really hoping for it too... Instead, I won Drama King. When they called my name for it, I didn't really know what to think. Half of my peers were clapping whilst the other half groaned in unison as they realized the insult it was meant to be. To be labeled as your school's drama king... How can I really interpret that? Was it all just out of jest? It doesn't seem so. Knowing my history with people, bullies, and people's bullshit I know there was malicious intent behind it.

It's not so much that the title was insulting. What bothers me is how it can be perceived as such and how it wouldn't surprise me that people voted me for the title out of malicious intent. It was unexpected. I was hoping to have a fun night. Instead, I have this voice in my mind wondering who would have voted me for the title. For me to win, it would have had to have been at least half of the 250 kids that voted. Who knows?

I'm just ready to go home.