"It's tearing up my heart when I'm with you. But when we are apart, I feel it too."
Call me crazy, but I don't think at the age of 24 I should still be emotionally identifying with these lyrics. As of recently, I have come to a self-awareness that I'm still as angsty and compelled by irrational emotions as I was at 15. Can you imagine a grown, successful woman, sitting in an office cubical, sobbing and blaring "Quit Playing Games With My Heart" by the Backstreet Boys? Honestly, you shouldn't have to. That is an image that NO ONE should ever have to see. However, that woman, may or may not have been me at one point in recent history.
There are many immature habits which I have yet to outgrow. For instance, ordering chicken fingers and fries at any sit-down restaurant, simply by default... (I get nervous when I look at menus.) But this gut-wrenching heartbreak pattern might take the cake and it's undoubtedly my most difficult bad habit to break.
Just so you have an idea of the self-inflicting pain I speak of, when I was 16 and a boy hurt me, I wanted the world to know what I was going through, so I would sit in my room, blast some cheesey pop music and post an away message on my AOL Instant Messenger that would look a little something like this...
Fortunately, no one uses AOL Instant Messenger anymore. Unfortunately, Facebook has completely replaced our hours spent chatting online with pals. With this new form of socializing readily available on our iMacs, iPhones, and iPads and over 700 "friends" to "share" my personal life with, it takes all of my mental strength not to post lyrics, music videos, and pictures of myself looking adorably lovable on my page, so the world can see how hot I still look after someone has done me wrong.
The problem is subliminal messaging. Yes! I sure do believe in that crap, as firmly as I believe that Miss Cleo was a phenomenal cosmic power in the psychic world!
As a young naive girl, I can guarantee that 90% of my time was spent with headphones on, engraining the wise words of Justin Timberlake, Hanson, Backstreet Boys, O-Town, 98 Degress, etc. into my hormonal, puberty-stricken mind. Have you ever paid attention to the lyrics of these artists? At the time, I swore that these words spoke to my soul. "Baby when you finally get to love somebody, guess what? It's gonna be me." and "Where's the love? It's not enough. It makes the world go 'round." and let's not forget! ... "Am I original? Am I the only one? Am I sexual?"
I mean honestly, come on guys... "Show me the meaning of being lonely." ?? ... What the heck does that even mean?! I'm thinking it means the skills of song-writers hit rock bottom in the late 90's and all the while, the lyricists of "Stairway To Heaven" and "Hotel California" were rolling over in their graves.
Here's my theory, I struggle with starting relationships, discarding emotional baggage, and picking myself up after ties have supposedly been severed because these boy bands told me that's how it's supposed to be. In the majority of their songs, the message being sent to the listeners is that when you fall in love, it's going to be with someone that sucks. And that is going to suck for you. And you're never going to get over it. And you're going to cry yourself to sleep at night, wishing that you never met this person, while at the same time thanking the heavens above that you did, because there just isn't anyone out there that could possibly break your fragile heart quite like they do. Because of these boy bands' stupid advice, we do irrational, psychotic, bat-shit-crazy things for our lover's attention, go after unattainable people, and refuse to let go when there isn't a shred of hope left in a relationship.
Ladies and gentlemen, love doesn't have to be this way. When you decide that you are ready to be committed to someone, it should be with someone who is considerate of your stereotypical-pop-culture-emotional instability, who takes this in high regards, and because of this awareness, won't do things to hurt your feelings. Quit wasting your time on The Selfish and patiently await the arrival of The Selfless.
Love should be simple: "You like me, I like you, we like each other, and ALAS! We are happy."
End. Of. Story.
Forget the lyrics, forget the gut-wrenching drama. If it's keeping you up at night because you have knots, not butterflies, in your belly, it's time to let it go.
Here's one final a tip, if he sings "I'll never break your heart, I'll never make you cry.", has unnaturally colored, frosty platinum hair, and wears matching windbreaker pants with four of his buddies, run far, far away and never look back.
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