Definition Of Love

His bottom lip trembled slightly, as he fought the urge to say something humorous to lighten the tension. His voice cracked slightly as he continued: “It doesn't come from a place of depression or feeling misunderstood; unloved. I feel suicidal because of hopelessness. I have nothing to look forward to; the future will be more bleak than the present.“

She couldn't help noticing how certain he sounded, like there was no room for doubt: he'd accepted that things weren't going to get better anytime soon. If ever. What had happened to make him so sure of this?

“I think it also comes from a place of exhaustion. It's like half of me is too tired to live and wants to give up, yet I'm too lethargic to even attempt it. They say humans are wired to take the path of less resistance, for me death is the path of least resistance. Requires less energy, requires less pressure.“ 

She remembered he'd mentioned feeling tired before, but it hadn't been to this degree. It had been the tiredness that causes someone to lay in bed, using sleep as an escape. Not death. What changed?

“It also comes from a place of anger. Bitterness towards the world around me for taking the control I desperately need. Resentment towards everybody who looked on, who saw everything that happened yet they stayed silent. And most of all, destructiveness towards the people who did this me. Who turned me into a heartless shell and then pointed figures. Like i was the one to blame.”

“Do you ever feel, as you mentioned earlier, unloved?“ She asked, wonderingly.

”It depends on your definition of love. In a general term, I know I'm loved. But if you mean whether I have faith that someone will love me unconditionally then no. My family, friends, their love has always been very conditional. Sometimes it was glaringly obviously what the demand was and sometimes it was hidden, only uncovered when I changed enough that they wanted nothing to do with me. And no one ever loved the real me. They just loved the image they forced me to create for them if I ever wanted to feel safe and cared for. The condition was that I kept it up, if I didn't I would be shown just how worthless my existence was to them.“

She knew exactly which family he was talking about. And an overprotective part of her would have loved to murder them. To get the revenge that he was too kindhearted to even contemplate. 

”Though I wonder…“ he mused. ”would it hurt them more if I was driven to suicide or if I fought it and lived long enough to throw it all back at them? To be able to scream at them that I have survived and am all the more stronger for it. I don't feel very strong though. My family always seemed to have the mindset that the more they degraded me the better I would become. Their way of pushing me to do better was by insulting every effort I made. Now, when I analyse everything, I can't find a single talent I have, anything that would make me worth something, anything that would warrant that I could make the future better.“

What could she say to that? What could she possible articulate that could comfort somebody who had only ever received love at a price? Who believed in themselves yet accepted that they could only ever amount to nothing? Who pushed themselves to do better, be greater, only to criticise themselves for laziness and the inability to be perfect? Who had searched again and again for their skill but had not found anything worthy of praise? Who loved themselves as a whole but hated every part?

”Do your daydreams still help you cope?“ She asked instead.

”They're a lot more then a coping mechanism now, they're like a survival mechanism. The only thing keeping me alive and sane. I can't bring myself to hate them anymore. How do you hate someone who cared for you when no one did and believed in you when even you couldn't?“ He pronounced. 

He talks like that about his close family. What about his real family? How do you love someone who cared for you only if you met a set of requirements and degraded you when the thing you needed most was a little confidence?