Looking at Life Through the Window of Today

I am long past denying the fact that I am a cruel person.

I break hearts. And that's not me bragging. That's me stating a cold hard fact that has been repeated to me not less than seven times--by guys, girls, and my parents. I've been called callous, heartless, a bitch, and a lot of things relating to that. But I'm not insulted. Nor do I feel any anger by being given such titles. Why would I when I deserve them?

Commitment has always been something of a fantasy for me, but when reality brings it along, it frightens me to death. There were a lot of guys that came into my short teenage life. A lot of them I genuinely liked at first, but when the fun road of getting acquainted and flirtation drew to its end, the vastness of the possibilities facing me simply impelled me to race back to where I came from without a word of explanation.

I've left a few guys cold. I was a coward enough to do that. But cut me a bit of slack and give me some credit--I came back. I came back to the road I left them, finding them wandering back aimlessly, and guided them into the safer road of a stable friendship without the daunting shadow of romance's trees hovering over us.

I am friends with both of my ex boyfriends. And I get along amazingly with guys that I abandoned because of my fear. They all understood. They all accepted me back. And now they're the best friends I could ever have in my life. They all acknowledge that I was not such a perfect person for doing what I did, but the trust I have in them, and they have in me, simply is incomparable to any kind of trust a normal friendship could build.

Bono especially has been one of the pillars of my existence. I thought myself half in love with his wit and boldness at one point, but eventually came to the realisation that I wanted him to be there for me as a friend, not as a boyfriend. And now that he is, now that there's someone loving me for who I am without the pressures of a commitment, I found myself to be in no need for it. There are expectations that come with a relationship. A commitment, a responsibility.

The one time I decided to take that plunge after my disastrous childhood sweetheart episode was with Kyle. And even that did not turn out well, even if our friendship indicated nothing but the ideal relationship between us. The title of being in a relationship changed things drastically. Once again, only three steps into the vast forest of a relationship, I spun on my heels and took off without explanation. I came in there excited, wanting to experience something new. And when I found that all it was a series of going through the same motions of saying "I love you" before sleeping and after waking, of telling him how may day went, the routine disillusioned me. So I left.

That wounded him. But I had to do the right thing for me. He liked what we had. He liked the routine, that security. That stability. But it was not for me. "Live a little," everyone says. I say "Live!" I had to come back and explain things to him, and even if he was one of those who would never understand, he accepted my apologies, and now we live a life of coexistence, of complete trust and the thought that "Maybe, someday," when I'm ready, we might start all over again. But in my heart I honestly doubt that.

What is it about settling down to commitment that scares me away? Why do I have a constant need for change, when the majority of the world live their lives so that they could find a constant pace to settle down? I have had friends so content to stick it out in a crappy relationship, claiming that they loved the person too much to let go, even if they were already neglecting their own lives. It seems the norm, the thing that everyone must do.

Am I selfish?

When my aunt told me this morning of how she suspected that he dropped out of school for a while because he and his girlfriend broke up, I started to think a little more. He sounded like someone who would be attached. I got scared. This was another heart just waiting for me to leave it cold.

But then as I write this now, I look outside the window and realise where I am. I'm not home anymore. I'm in a new place, trying to build a new life. And maybe, just maybe, this life would be different. Maybe in this life, I can live and at the same time know what attachment is.

It's too soon to tell.

But it's also too soon to cast out that idea.

Or is it?