Sunitha's Journal: Love

Falling for someone is much different than I ever thought it would be. It always sounded like something beautiful, something to look forward to. I did not think it would be like this. Not like this at all. I remember the first time I thought I was in love. Kevin. That was his name. It was my first year at university. I didn't think he could ever like someone like me, but he did. I can remember our first date as though it were yesterday. It was the first date I had ever been on. I should like to blame my older brothers for that. But I really thought I loved Kevin. I always felt nervous around him. That was what love was supposed to be, right? Butterflies in your stomach, weak knees. Nervous. And that was exactly what he made me feel all the time. Nervous. Looking back, I can see that it wasn't love. It was anxiety. He made me feel like I was never good enough, like I might never be good enough. That is not love. That is not what love should ever be.

Love is supposed to be beautiful, that is what I have heard. Love should make you feel good. Not just about yourself, but about the person you love, about life. Love is difficult to explain and I'm butchering it here. I am certain no one will ever read this, but if someone ever does, I am sorry for my awful description of what love is, but I'm going to continue with it. Love is warm and soft and kind. It's joy and never worrying that you're making the wrong decision. It is not something you come across often. Nor is it something you come across easily. It takes time and effort.

This love, if you can call it that, that I feel is far from beautiful. It is wild, untamed, and generally speaking, ugly and brutish. Quinn Dwyer is not a man I should have ever fallen for. I never should have even looked his way. But I did. And I will not say it is a mistake because I do not feel as though I have made a mistake. If it is a mistake, it has been the best mistake of my life. Yes, helping him cost me a finger, but I still do not feel regret. Every now and then, when I look at him, I feel a strange sense of sorrow well up inside me. But then, when I really look at him, it all melts away like snow in springtime. Quinn is a man I should not love. He is a man I should not think about. There is something, though, about him that makes me unafraid. I feel warm when I am with him despite his general lack of warmth towards me.

If any of my brothers were to find out about Quinn, they would kill him. And then possibly me. Quinn is not a good man. I know this. It is difficult not to see that. But, I think, there is still something deep inside him that is good. Perhaps a shred of whoever he used to be, before he grew to be the man he is now. But I could be wrong. I  am crazy, after all. Crazy and broken. I do not want Quinn to know just how broken I am. I fear that should he find out that I am simply a shell of a woman, he will no longer wish to see me, no longer wish to be near me. I do not want to lose the one really good thing I have. Rory, if you ever see this, I am sorry. That probably sounded much like an insult, but I am incredibly grateful for the job you have given me, and it brings me great joy. That joy hardly reaches down into my broken soul, my broken mind, though, and I do wish to the Gods it reached deeper than it does.

 For now, I will hope. Hope that Quinn never learns that I am broken. I do not know if I can bear to be alone in this hateful world anymore. Not now that I feel something other than pain and sorrow. I am sorry. I don't know who I am apologizing to, but I am sorry. Sorry for sounding so much like a downer and so very emotional and unstable. I suppose this is where I put all of my instability so it does not interfere with my everyday life.

-Sunitha Singh, April 2371