Notes On Love
I probably never told anyone the depths of my feelings for my second year tutor at university, not since it occurred at any rate. Friends on the course knew the attraction I felt, and although they mocked me for it (because it was mockable) they understood to a certain level. They also believed that the feelings were reciprocated, and at least I have that, the onus wasn't all on me and I most certainly wasn't living in a flight of fantasy.
I don't know why my mind has been wandering to those particular events. I graduated in the summer of 2011, and until I met Martin they'd been a lot of instances of unrequited feelings, on both sides. There were men that loved me and I just didn't want them and then there were men I cared for that didn't want me. There was never anyone to really blame, it was just the way things were. Pointing fingers and trying to cause more hurt rarely helps the situation.
When I graduated, the feelings of being used and made a fool of enthused me, I exhausted all those feelings of hurt through art. The hurt of not just my tutor, but the hurt of the situation that I found myself in directly after that. It was as if my mind had taken the relationship with my tutor as the standard (and that was very little to do with him and more to do with me). That every relationship with a man had to be one of fraught feelings, a power play between the one who cares least. It's silly really because I knew I was deserving of someone who wanted me as much as I wanted them.
I've met so many men that are scared to be involved with me romantically, and I understand to an extent. I am flighty and flaky. I run on impulse and whims that don't always pay off. You need to be a special kind to be willing to take that on. I am a lose cannon at times, even with the steadying of my moods by medication.
I used to fight for answers when a relationship didn't work, I am not unaccustomed to cornering the subject of my feelings and demanding to know why, physically and verbally. Except with my tutor, I didn't. I left with my ideas of what was in his mind. Which may be why it's playing on my mind. I have such an obsession with knowledge of peoples motives and deepest desires; and I'd prefer the cold truth over a lie to make me feel better every time.
Or maybe it's because this year marks four years since I graduated and how things have moved and changed. Eclipses, exhibitions, blogs, friends and experiences all mingle.
I've changed so much since those heady days of university. I think I've become colder and more reclusive to the world. I've stopped looking outwards for answers and begun hoping that the answers lie inside me, that all along I've known them. The thoughts of wasted emotion have never left me though, which is just how things play out.
For the first time I actually feel secure in my relationship. I know that the care Martin has for me matches that I have for him. My gut tells me this is right, and I am right. I don't need to lay awake at night questioning his motives because I know.
Instead, when searching for inspiration a catch myself thinking about all the times love has burnt, all the times the puzzle never seemed to fit. Each time I wished that for that moment I could open up their brain and look at the bit labelled Erin; and this wish stretched to every relationship in my life, not just those romantic forays. I just want to know that they remember me. That throughout it all - I left some type of impact. That occasionally in their minds they think about me when it's quiet, as I do them.
I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, the feeling of emailing and asking "why?" never seems to go, and the selfish thing is, if I had an answer maybe I could make an artwork from it. A point of view to be dissected and exhausted; just like all the others.