Jackie: Ok, so you're probably sitting there thinking, "I'm on this date with this girl who really, really likes me... and, and she's so beautiful that - "
Hyde: Jackie -
Jackie: (puts her finger to his lips to silence him) Shhh... And you're wondering, "How can I open up to her, when everyone I have ever loved have abandoned me. Am I even worthy of love?" Well...you are, Steven. You are.
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Jackie Bags Hyde. Season:3, Episode:308
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Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Summary: Hyde babbles about love and abandonment.
Authors Note: This is just something I sat down and typed. It's nothing extraordinary or grand. It's just words written out of boredom. Oh, no specific setting. Just... Whenever.
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A ridiculous concept.
A stupid word that people use to manipulate other people. A word that was created by the devil and defined by Merriam Webster.
L-O-V-E
I'll never understand why people make such a big deal out of a 4 letter word.
Love is overrated.
In some perspective it's a commitment.
Foreman and Donna believe in it enough to go through this soap opera of a relationship.
To others, it's an emotion.
Kelso and Jackie grasp onto it like it's the only thing holding them together.
And yet, in perspective again, it's noncommittal.
My parents 'loved' me, but that didn't stop them from leaving.
I hate the way it's 'mandatory' that a kid love their parents. The idea alone is just stupid because it's just deceptive; a flawed theory. You're manipulated to believe that if you do, then it's guaranteed that a parent would love their own flesh and blood.
It isn't.
Because nothing is ever guaranteed.
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The basic story of my life:
After my dad left, my mom stopped caring. Sometimes she just stayed in her room, doing absolutely nothing but lie in bed. When I did see her, she'd never really look at me. I think she was afraid to. When she looked at me, she saw a future she almost had but never got. Soon enough, she got tired looking at a mistake. She started to go out one night a week. Then it turned into every night, and soon enough, it became the same story, different guy. I didn't care though. She was doing her thing, whatever. It became an issue when I'd get in trouble for ditching school or fighting someone. It became an issue when she had to take time out of her precious schedule to go to the principals office and talk them out of expelling me.
When she had to hear them talk about the lack of father figure in my life.
"I can't do this anymore, Steven." She stressed. "You need to get your shit together."
"After you." I said brusquely.
She lit up a cigarette and exhaled the smoke. "Get your shit together now, Steven. 'Cause the direction you're heading, you're going to end up in jail. You're going to end up alone."
"Well that's better then what I have now!"
"You think so?" She scoffed. "You keep it up. Go ahead, keep it up and you're going to end up fucking yourself over."
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Sometime after that 'conversation' my mother decided that she didn't want to be around anymore.
As if she were ever around.
But, one day, she decided to make it final.
I remember Edna's words before she left. A single suitcase in her hand, her eyes had grown heavy and tired, her voice was wary.
"Be good, okay?"
I jerked from her touch, breathing rapidly.
"You're leaving? Just like that?" I asked, ignoring the pain constricting in my chest.
"Yeah." She said, her voice light. "I'm sorry, baby. I really am but, maybe it's better for you. For me. For us."
I swallowed. How could she act like this was a simple break up? She was my mother. She was supposed to love me unconditionally, regardless of what I did wrong, despite everything that was happening.
Didn't I deserve that much?
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How many people do you think go into this tedious 'love-analyzing' once in a while only to get disillusioned in the end?
I have to give Freud points for analyzing lust instead.
Anyway, back to love - it's been thrown around so often -- misused and disillusioned, it loses its beauty, its art, its phenomenon.
You nit-pick here and there and it becomes a 'supposed' beauty, 'supposed' art, 'supposed' phenomenon.
Love is just like love itself - it becomes grain sand in your hand once you squeeze and scrutinize it: the more you hold on to it, the more it escapes your grasp. The more you try to figure it out, the less enchanting it becomes, the less essence you understand.
... and even as i begin to try to fathom its unfathomable, it loses its meaning (or lack thereof).
Just look at Foreman and Donna. They're disillusioned and gullible.
Somewhere in their small, twisted minds, they believe that it's all they'll ever need.
But that's okay with them 'cause they're happy.
Love.
A ridiculous concept.
A stupid word that people use to manipulate other people. A word that was created by the devil and defined by Merriam Webster.
L-O-V-E
I'll never understand why people make such a big deal out of a 4 letter word.
Love is overrated.
... but then again, maybe not. Love itself isn't really overrated. Maybe it's people, like me, who makes it so.