I’m unable to love people. I only love things. My books, my memorabilia, my bad drawings and stories. But not people.
I thought that I was in love once. It was my first and only “love”, but it wasn’t love at all. It was an actual torture. The dude was a horrible person. The kind that would kick a pregnant lady and laugh. I was so focused on thinking that I’m “in love” that I refused to acknowledge how bad he is.
And then I realized that I just can’t love people. I have some good people in my life that would die for me – my cousin, my grandma, my mom. I’m taking care of them, I worry about them, I hope they’ll have a better life, I try to help them when I can. But I don’t love them. I’ve never felt as attached to people as I’m attached to my things, things that I do love. I wonder if this is a disorder of some kind.
I don’t feel bad about being unable to love people. I’m attracted to some people, I can feel attraction. But never love and I don’t regret it. It’s actually a nice thing, it makes me immune to pain that people can cause me. But I wish that people who love me could’ve had someone better than me, sometime who can love them back.