I have this unhealthy habit of comparing myself to others in worse case scenarios.
Keera used to tell me about how she’d grow up to be an assassin and she’d make a ton of money being paid to kill people. We were young and stupid with no future except for the foolish made up adventures in our heads. She’d talk about how easy it was to just point the weapon and shoot, that it didn’t matter whose life was at the other end of that gun. After all, we didn’t like people, so it was the perfect job for the both of us.
Oh, sure, I’d be the perfect assassin! I’d get on a plane to Paris, sight see for the day, head on over to some location I had scouted ahead of time, watch the target in my scope and take my time to pull the trigger, eventually, pulling the trigger. Then I’d pack up and go home. I was never going to get married. I was never going to be burdened down with family or attachments. And I was never going to care about the person I just killed…or so I thought. Reality was much different.
I didn’t know how to hold a gun, let alone, shoot it. I’m deathly afraid of zombies, so any dead person isn’t ideal to me. There was this weird fantasy that I could be that kind of person, that I could easily just hide myself away and deal with the circumstances. The fantasy was that I could make myself into anything, even a terrible monster, because I was capable of being just like everyone else.
Being in love is like being an assassin. Worse case scenario, I’d get cheated on by the one I love, with someone I knew or have known, and they’d live happily ever after while I get to be brave and deal with the broken pieces of my heart. I’ve never been cheated on so this is simply an irrational fantasy in my head.
There’s this idea and this thought that if so and so’s relationship with this person ended up like that, then perhaps my relationship with that person would end up like that too. And what hurts worse than being betrayed by the one you love? It’s an experience I know all too well, but only from writing and from reading books. I imagine myself to be able to handle that kind of pain, to be brave and not give a damn about the past, and most importantly, to move on. So what if some guy I saw myself being with for the rest of my life broke my heart? Pfft. I’d heal. I’m an independent woman. I don’t need a man to rule over me.
There’s all these empowering thoughts, all these encouraging words, but I still have this worse case scenario fantasy in my head because my mind wants me to acknowledge that I am tougher than my circumstances, that I am going to be perfectly fine. I can handle pretty much anything. I am a badass woman. Hear me roar.
That’s not always the case. Worse case scenario for anything and everything is that the ones you love could be no more. It’s easier to deal with rejection than to deal with death. Death leaves an empty hole as it takes away a part of you that was attached to someone or something (a pet, for example).
What I’m doing is semi healthy and semi disturbed. My habit of continuously putting myself into these fake situations is two fold: I can prepare for the worse that happens and work through stressful and what could be mind debilitating problems while I’m still rational and calm, or I can masochistically torture myself with false illusions that never were, never are, and never will be which can indeed cripple my sense of self over time. Hm, to weigh the scales, which is which and is it worth it creating imaginary problems to test out my ability to handle such imaginary problems? Such a hard dilemma.
Being in love and being an assassin isn’t actually similar in any way. I really can’t compare because I’ve never been an assassin, but being in love is something that doesn’t need complications from misconceived ideas of what love is and what love isn’t. To be in love is wonderful and one should just enjoy it for what it is: love.