music, books, love and kindness

It seems to me that not thinking about something (or someone) is a little bit easier than not feeling about something (or someone). I am just scraping by at not thinking (mostly not, at least) but failing miserably at not feeling. 

Books often me re-direct my thinking, which is one reason of many I love them so much. Sometimes, though, they hit me hard and oddly comfort and connect to my thoughts and feelings in a way I both want to avoid and want to embrace.

Currently, I am reading this:



It is full of thoughts and feelings that I have rarely encountered before in fiction, though, as I find with every lesfic book I read, the main character's feelings are returned. I would so like to find a novel or short story that deals realistically, unflinchingly and without any kind of starry-eyed idealism, with true unrequited love...not the 'fake' kind where both characters (*sigh*) realize at the end they really do like each other. 

Reading can help you feel less alone in situations you think are unique to you and that can help you feel less alien and monster-like. But, despite all the wonderful books I have read, I still long for that one. 

In the book I'm reading now there are so many passages that hit me hard (there are ones about coming out to family that eerily reflect my own experience, down to the words the mother says and the actions she takes in making absolutely clear she will not be accepting her daughter).

This one comes very close to hitting the nail on how I would give anything to never have encountered the feelings (and maybe even the person, as lovely a person as she is) within me:

The point being, I wasn’t a person who was uncomfortable with physical contact. So long as it was friendly, of course. Why then, was the feeling of Sarah’s hand on mine so unnerving? If I had the luxury of foresight, I might have said it was an omen. An omen telling me to thank her and walk away. Keep my distance. But I didn’t have that luxury, and I didn’t walk away. She wouldn’t let me.

I must stress again that this book is about requited feelings and that for me, the "she wouldn't let me" is not the person but my persona or whatever it is in charge of my emotions. But even so I relate to them. As much as I like the person I like and as much as she has been a great role model for me, I often wish I had never met her :(

The closest I have ever come to a novel capturing the pain of unrequited love is this:

by Dorothy Strachey

And, really, I get the distinct impression that the only reason there is no reciprocal relationship is because the recipient does not feel it is right to act on their feelings, something else I can relate to...