From as far back as the age of seven, love has been a topic of interest to me, haunting me all my life. Forever I looked at this emotion as an object of thought, watching people treat it otherwise, saying they were in love, not even understanding what they meant, only to break up a week or so later and hating their previous partner for the rest of their life. It sickened me, how fickle people were with the word and feeling. Forever I’ve counseled others on the subject, helping couples with their issues, working people through their emotional problems and broken-heart stories, and even after such an assistance, such an ever growing understanding, all my life I have never felt comfortable getting close to others in the slightest. I’ve had plenty of chances, I’ve always seemed to have men after me in what almost seemed like a “creepish” sort of way, but it really wasn’t, it was perfectly normal [At least most cases were..], I just couldn’t handle it.
From the beginning I always saw the pain that was to follow before the “amazement” that supposedly brought it on. Everyone would go on and on about how unbelievable it was, being in a relationship, falling in love, but I could never feel this. I have only ever felt overwhelming amounts of pain, anxiety and regret from the event and emotions to follow. I have loved, but expressing it is something I simply cannot allow myself to do without psychological consequences. I cannot live with myself any time I, more or less, force myself to give it a try. I keep telling myself it could work, if I only gave it a chance, but no. I only ever seem to end up killing myself in the process; I am psychology terrified at the thought of getting close to others. Even getting too close to family and friends makes me uneasy.
So here I am, almost 13 years later from when I can farthest back recall feeling the need for a definition to the word, and I am cold. I have a boyfriend, but my case makes things overwhelmingly difficult, and although I love him, I just want out. I have trouble expressing my love to him at all, I feel overwhelming nervous when it comes to expressing love to him in public or around others, even if the others are friends, and it is overwhelmingly troublesome. No matter the case, I feel so trapped. I keep hoping the “love” that everyone talks about will just grow on me over time and I will finally let this psychological residue go, so I wait, enduring the anxiety I put myself through for this love that’s expected to come. It does nothing instead. I only progressively get worst.
I have no interest in being part of a devoted relationship [Although I’m in one at the time], I have no interest in marriage, I have no interest in having children, and I am perfectly fine with spending the rest of my single life by myself- forever. This is wrong, and I don’t have to think twice to know that this is abnormal. Even my closest of friends, who similarly had trouble with getting close to others at one time, have now found love and are ecstatic at the result. Just about everyone I’ve known by this point is borderline marriage within the next one to two years tops. They’re all so happy, and I am happy for them. I cannot feel this happiness for the life of me. I’m just a lonely artist, living through my work and forever doomed to be single. But is that really a bad thing? People make it out to be such a thing to dread, being alone, being “single,” but I’m okay with it. I repeat, I know that’s abnormal.
I mentioned I have a boyfriend, and I cannot stress more the hell I have put myself through to convince myself it was okay to even give love a try with the guy. It was tremendously difficult to allow myself to love him, and now I only feel regret, although I have no reason to. Because of this my broken emotions and fears put my “lover” through hell. He constantly feels as if he has done something wrong, and I feel so at fault because of it. I can’t stand it, and I know I hurt him because of it, yet he stays with me, because he “loves” me. It is a very awkward situation, because of my overwhelming apathy and phobia. The worst part though is my fear doesn’t let me do anything about it. I repeat, I feel so trapped, within myself. it’s disgusting.
Returning to the start of my passage; all my life the topic of love has been a topic of interest to me. But as a topic. Forever I have been in search for the proper meaning, and even after settling on the idea that it was a “deep unconditional caring,” that search has died down. “Love” has become an objective “human need” to me now, along with the explanation for “emotion” in a general sense. It’s definition has turned into a “weakness,”, a “loss of control,” and primarily, a “vulnerability.” I cannot express this more.
I have read a number of the passages here on this site, and I’m afraid to tell the most of you; What you have is not Philophobia. You are simply human, and these are your emotional instabilities. Please don’t take it personally, but it “normal,” what you are going through.
Image it ten times worst now, and then multiply that by ten more times. It’s different. It’s virtually inhuman. You don’t want it, but you crave it. You hate it, but you need it. You avoid it, but it hurts you. You attempt it, and it hurts you more. And eventually, it breaks you. The only way I can live with it is through my artwork, which is to even an exaggerated extent, out of the ordinary- not by choice, but by nature. I’m hardly human by this point, and it’s disgusting what this phobia has turned me into.
My apathy is of a rampantly dangerous level by this point. I dislike any sense of emotion, positive or negative, I have a serious self-control complex, and I feel more comfortable separating myself from others rather than not, whether they be family, friends, or “lovers.” I am so disconnected from reality by this point, and I prefer it. It’s safer. It’s easier. It’s more comfortable. I don’t feel the need for emotion. I feel the need for nothing relative to “humanity” at all, and it only hurts when emotion invades my seemingly cold head. I am hollow. And it is cold.