Sorry for this being the second time I’m posting about “Awkward Beat/Pregnant Pause” in my blog, but hey, it’s just that good. That relevant.
From the beginning, I’ve always correlated to the main character, H. We both had an issue of not being loved enough as a child, and in that we resisted and turned the other cheek still making our top priorities an actual top priority. Still very head over heart, we aim to choose duty and what may seem like the smartest idea of what to do rather than what makes us happy. But his (later-on) flatmate, N, is a character that I’ve been dying to connect with since the beginning of the first story, but haven’t been able to even touch.
N is very fearless. He’s very much of an extroverted perceiver, whereas I’m definitely an introverted judger. (Meyer-Briggs tests, for the win.) N is pretty much everything I want to be in a person. Not only is he bold enough to speak to anybody who comes his way, but he sees stories in them. Not just stories, but he sees the good in everybody that he comes across.
I envy N so much. I envy the fact that he doesn’t need a plan to be happy. I envy that he can love everything in the world so extensively. I envy how carefree he is. But at the same time, I hate his character. I don’t see how he can be real and exist and still be an adult. I hate how he doesn’t think about how things will pan out. I hate how he can give everybody the benefit of the doubt and is just okay with them still sinning left and right. I hate how he doesn’t think. He just… does.
But in the latest chapter of PP (chapter 34), my attachment to him finally clicked.
“Being with someone – just one person – it’s scary. Because what if, one day, they decide they don’t love you back? Then you’re alone. Isn’t it better to just keep your options open? Just in case?”
As I read his words written in this chapter, I started to weep. Because it’s exactly how I feel in a quotation that I didn’t think ever would exist. It has all of my fears rolled into one, and somehow a character that I thought I would never connect with… I suddenly felt closer to him, though he’s fictional, than I ever did with anybody else in my life.
(…) ultimate social butterfly, filmmaker extraordinaire, the man with the fearless soul, was afraid of heartbreak.
The more I considered it, the more it made sense. He was unreserved with the love he gave; never holding back, never pausing to consider that the receiver may not love him back. He loved everyone he met because he saw endless goodness in everyone. Endless uniqueness. Endless stories.
But if he loved just one person more than all the rest, and if he opened his heart to her and bled adoration only to have it abused…
I honestly think that’s why I’m afraid to love. Not just romantic love, but love in general. I’m afraid of having the one thing I cherish more than anything else abused. I’m afraid of rejection, of not knowing what’s going to happen, of heartbreak.
And until I get over this (N too…), I can’t grow.