Being berated by your friends for clinging to a possible positive outcome of a battle everyone knows you’ve long knows is not exactly the thing you would fancy when the spring is coming and you are supposed to join nature in relishing the onslaught of new life served sprinkled with new emotions and hopes.

And you know you can’t get away so it’s not good even trying. They will make it out anyway, try as you might to mask your thoughts shedding a different light on them.

No matter how hard you try, you know what you’ll be getting: Why don’t you just love the ones that love you?

Well, I’ve had enough of this all over the years. Boy. how many times I’ve heard and read this (latter in instant messengers). But why do they always say this to me? Why don’t they say it to the ones I love „in vain”? (Of course it’s not in vain – at least if it is true love, you can derive alls sorts of benefits even when in the absence of a positive response.) Same logic should apply to everyone, shouldn’t it?

And not even to people. Take a town. I am almost at the verge of falling in love with Hatvan, so purely countryside, as if taken out of a song. And once again this logical paradox kicks in: what you love about it – the tranquility of both people and surroundings, the fact no one is in a hurry, both pedestrians and drivers wait when they have to, is what causes you the utmost pain. You cannot just have your phone repaired as they all close at 5 in the waking days and are open on Saturday morning, then bye.

At this point I’ve started learning to bear the brunt of such unrequited loves to the point I even enjoy it, which hopefully doesn’t make of me a masochist. Knowing this is my avail obviously won’t do. This can make me resilient at best but not happy.

What makes me happy is the mere fact of having and exerting the right to choose.

What does not make me happy is the fact in those small towns there are people who are not granted this right. What they are granted is whether to work in a store, girls pulling heavy carriages or not to work at all – or to join the homeless(‘) army in Budapest.

Is this the way a home town is supposed to love its children?

If those whom I love unequitedly don’t love me despite the fact I do love them, I also have the right to do so.

In the end of the day, life is not just about transmitting your DNA. No doubt everyone is happy to do so –so as long as this buoys you up while feeling drowned in the murky waters of life, go ahead. As far as I’m concerned, I want to see someone loving me because I love them before considering doing this myself.

Until that, I wil be better off alone playing that wicked game we made of life.

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