unrequited love

All posts tagged unrequited love

Demonstrating Your Love for God – Lessons from a Funeral

Posted by Rock Kitaro on March 12, 2023
Posted in: About the Author, Christianity, Food for Thought, religion. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 4 Comments

As many of you know, this year didn’t start off the greatest. One of my most cherished cousins was murdered and if that wasn’t bad enough…the proceeding funeral events were almost as painful. 

When I came back to Tampa, I spent at least two weeks in unimaginable pain and anguish. To cope, I kept telling myself, “Rock, you’re not that important. You’re not that important. You don’t matter. No one cares about you. It’s just you.”  

That’s just a complex I have, where it’s more comfortable to stay nestled in the belief that I’m on my own. Here, you’d have the common response of, “But Rock. People do love you.” But what good is their love if they never express it? How do you benefit from their love and affection if they don’t show or demonstrate it? 

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The Slave Quarters: Chapter 4 – My Equal (Mystery Thriller)

Posted by Rock Kitaro on September 3, 2018
Posted in: About the Author, Cloud Beaudry, Slave Quarters. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

The brilliant Jessica Arroyo has just transferred into Cloud’s unit at the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. Ever since he was fifteen he’s had a crush on this girl who’s bested him at everything he wanted to accomplish. Back in high school she was the valedictorian. The popular girl who could get any man she wanted while he was the odd bookworm voted most likely to shoot up the school.

Now…she’s back in his life again. Cloud isn’t the man he used to be and he’s still got business with Maggie. In his heart of hearts, Cloud knows Jessica’s inquisitive enough to figure out what he’s been up to for the past five years. It’d be a shame, really. If something were to happen to her.

Chapter 4 - My Equal
The Slave Quarters
By: Rock Kitaro

“Jessica Arroyo is a woman who…”

It’s odd. How to describe her? My honesty opinions and the facts might disagree with each other. So I opt to tell Miranda everything and trust that she’ll understand and tell it to me straight.

“As you know, I don’t particularly have a fond opinion of my fellow Millennials. I believe we are easily influenced. I believe we are forgetful of significant history. And I believe we think we are selfish individualists who refuse to see the big picture if it goes against our own personal ambitions. That being said, I don’t see myself as one of them. You’re probably the only person I’ll admit this to, but yes, I honestly do think most Millennials are beneath me. However, there is but one of my fellow peers who I can honestly say I see as my equal. Her name is Jessica Arroyo.”

“And she is?”

“An infection, a persistent virus that never truly leaves the body. It’s only suppressed and contained by isolation and time away from irritant exposure. Jessica and I graduated from the same school, always competed academically. I’ve had a crush on her since I was fifteen, which was depressing as I watched her date asshole after asshole. She was one of the most popular girls in the school, magically excelling at everything while I was the fat loser who kept my nose buried in the books. If that’s not bad, she even beat me out to take the valedictorian spot while I was salutatorian. And to make matters worse, by pure friggin happenstance, she ended up attending the same college, enrolling in the same programs, same classes, the same degree. It was horrible. Alright, it wasn’t horrible, but it was tormenting.”

“I’m confused. Are you jealous of her? Or are you in love with her?” Miranda asks, making light of the predicament.

“Neither! I think every man has a certain point in which they’ve seen the love of their life passed between too many dudes. That ship has sailed.”

Miranda starts to snicker but I continue in a mindless prattle.

“That ship has sailed! Moreover, beauty like that has a way of ensnaring a man. The problem resides in the fact that, like me, she’s a natural born detective. You should have heard her thesis in our criminology classes. With every answer she gave, it’s like she was taking the words right out of my mouth. People always seem to be so puzzled. It confounds them to understand the motives of killers and con artists, but like me, Jessica just gets it. This leads me to believe that beneath her happy-go-lucky façade, her heart is just as dark as my own. She’s just better as hiding it.”

“I’m telling you, Miranda. Her immense beauty belies the fact that she is extremely intelligent. She knows me. More than that, she always used to think we were friends, which freaking sucks because it’s with types like that where if you push her away it’ll only create more questions in which she won’t stop until she gets to the bottom of it. She was there the morning after Maggie’s first kill. She was there when I came back from my mother’s funeral. If I’m not careful…”

…I want to say I might have to get rid of her but I refrain.

“Sounds like all this went down years ago. What? Is the bitch back?”

“Yes. Leanne’s probably finishing up the grand tour as we speak. I saw her, Miranda. She’s still so flawless,” I say, utterly hopelessness.

Miranda chuckles over her lime soda. “It ain’t easy being Cloud Beaudry, is it? Would you like my advice?”

“Please,” I invite with open palms.

“Sounds to me like you just need to get it out of your system. Hit that once and you’ll be all right. Trust me. Won’t even look at her the same way.”

It’s not what I wanted to hear.

Bleeding Hearts – A Random Thought from A Man Who Broods

Posted by Rock Kitaro on May 26, 2013
Posted in: Food for Thought. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

By Rock Kitaro
Date: May 26, 2013

brokenheartwbandaid

Bleeding Heart – An informal label applied to someone regarded as excessively sympathetic, of having sympathetic without warrant.

I have a lot of female cousins on my mom’s side of the family. I have all brothers, but a lot of female cousins. Growing up with my brothers…I didn’t hear condescending underhanded remarks. With us boys, we openly dissed each other in good fun. We called each other names and talked shit well until we’re rolling in laughter or coming close to blows…but hardly any condescending insults masked as blunt unbiased and indifferent statements.

One of the things I heard a lot growing up…usually from females… “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Now this…is probably one of the dumbest things you can say to someone who looks like they’re going through hard time. It’s almost as bad as telling someone you’ve outright offended, that you’re “sorry they feel that way.”

If someone is worked up about something. Or if something is obviously weighing heavily on the person’s mind. For you to tell them, that it’s not that big of a deal is incredibly obnoxious and inconsiderate. While it may not be a big deal to you, it’s apparently a big deal to them. I mean…it’s written on their faces for craps sake. The lack of insight isn’t intentional, I’m sure.

That’s why I don’t get angry when I hear such statements, but rather just look at them perplexed, silently thinking to myself, “how could you say that? You must not know the whole situation? And even if you think you do, you obviously don’t understand, or lack the ability to put yourself in another person’s shoes. In which case, the shortcomings are your own.”

To get to the point of what I’m trying to say… I have a problem with carrying too much. You know how there’s the term “unrequited love” referring to how you’re in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way about you. Well, the story of my life revolves around caring about people who could careless that I care, or people with a pocket full of fucks who just couldn’t give one to me.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been this way. About animals, about the homeless, about orphans, about people I didn’t even know. When I was 9-years-old and learned about the Battle of the Alamo, turns out that I have a ridiculous amount of care of people who aren’t even alive anymore. Don’t even get me started about slavery and the Jews in the Holocaust. Or that notorious incident in Nanjing that they neglected to teach me in public school.

For those thinking I’m sensitive or soft, let me tell you, I brood…I don’t grieve. I brood. Brooding is to think about something, often in a dark or melancholy manner. I have this um…This narcissistic belief, that no matter what…there’s always something we can do. The idea of simply accepting things as just the way they are…yeah…hahaha…not in my world. Not in the one life that I’ve been given.

And the questions I would hear in my head from my doubters when I give that declaration are usually: “Well, Rock. What do you want to do about it? What do you think you can do? Who do you think you are? You can’t control everything.”

The people who ask me those questions are completely missing the fucking point. The real question they should be asking is why do I care at all. And even if they did ask, the answer I’d give them wouldn’t satisfy them. Because the honest truth is that I just don’t know. I kills me how much I care without knowing why I care. I think its because I have this great love for human beings. But at the same time, I have a cynical view about the majority of the general public. So what gives…

Hahaha! I could go into a theory about when I look into the mirror, I don’t just see one of me, but I see five of me…but that’s for another topic.

If you’re a bleeding heart…or if someone’s giving you crap for caring too much or having too much sympathy for another or others. I tell you, that I know it hurts. It’s unpleasant, and its even worse when you’re slighted aren’t for this quality. But that’s all right. Just learn to hide how much you care and know when to share it. That bleeding heart is passion. Passion leads to motivation. Motivation leads to accomplishment. Accomplishment…just isn’t something garden variety motherfuckers can lay claim to.

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