Because I Can’t Not Categorise Love


Or it could be that I think too much. Lately, my mother has been pestering me about the matters of love to no ends. Always reminding me that Allah created us to love and be loved. Always reminding me that I need someone in my life other than immediate family – to love. Always reminding me that I can’t survive on her love alone forever. Always reminding me that I need to learn to love, and to learn to accept love.

I may be able to learn to love, but I honestly think it would be hard for me to learn to accept love. I’m the type who thinks too much at times, and doesn’t want to think sometimes. I wish I could be as outgoing and joyful as some of my friends. I tried. I failed. It’s not about confidence or even the classic “I’m overweight and not pretty and a geek and cannot mix well with people” either. No. I don’t care about that. I’m not pressured either. Heck, what do you think? My beloved best friend is underweight and fair and pretty and cute (I hope she’s not reading this) and of mixed blood (not that I’m not one myself, but still) and more, you’d think I’d be feeling so low just to stand by her if I shoot myself down based on looks.

Based on the paragraph above, you can see how I think too much even when I only meant to say ‘I don’t care much’. You get the picture. That’s the kind of person I am. I describe things to much. Think about them too much. When it comes to emotional matters, it only gets worse.

For me, love comes in types. I categorise people in my live into different love types. There you go. It’s because I categorise people that I’m this way. I hate crowds. I prefer doing tasks on my own, so I’m worried about myself because my profession clearly states me to be more social. When Mom tells me to ‘try accepting xxx feelings’, I told her that I’d feel weird that way. It’s like trying to allow someone into my small circle of love. My brain has this weird schema where I put myself at the center of a circle, surrounded by layers much similar to our earth itself. The innermost layers are my family, and then my best friends, and then my friends. Where in that layer would,say, a boyfriend fit into? It’s like trying to destroy an established equilibrium. Now let’s look at my types of love:

  1. Filial
    It’s the special kind of love I have for my parents. The way I feel about them cannot be compared, or even described. It’s the greatest kind of love you can have for another human being. That’s why I can never understand or comprehend people who tell their lovers “You’re the one I love most in the whole world”. That mentality alone disgusts me. Filial love cannot be replaced. Never. I was rebellious, I know I sometimes still am. Really. This love I have for them is the type that always instantly gets me into ‘guilty, suicidal mode’ when I defy them or think of defying them.
  2. Familial
    The love I feel for my brothers, sisters-in-law, nephews and nieces. And probably my close extended family members as well, like my aunts and uncles and cousins. It’s almost like loyalty. No matter how much they annoy me, I can never come close to hating them. True, I could say “Dammit, I fucking hate you” to my brothers, but we all know I don’t mean it. My brothers are both hot headed. They were almost always at each others throat up until they grew into working adults and got married. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy sometimes, when they’d e-mail me or text me or just called me all the way from Malaysia just to see what I’m doing. Not that I’d ever tell them. My niece and nephews, though we seldom see each other, they have this cute attachment to me. Always calling me name and asking me stuff when we have the chance to see each other on Skype. Hmm.
  3. Platonic
    The love I feel for my best friends (and possibly, crushes). Close, intimate, affectionate – but never romantic. We tolerate all those jokes. We take less than an hour to get back on good terms when we offend each other. We care when one of us gets sick. We relate some things to each other when we go shopping, something like “Hey, this shirt will suit [insert name here] really well!” or “Doesn’t that remind you of [name here]? That’s so her/his style!” It’s the same as familial – just that we’re not related by blood. I can name a few, like Mira, Hanin, Khairiyyah, Keith… yes, yes, you guys are my light. And a few others. Even this one guy
  4. Romantic
    The kind of love I think people feel towards their boyfriends/ girlfriends/ spouses. This is in a different teritory all together. I’ve never sit in this zone. I’ve never felt like wanting to build a warm, loving family with someone. Truthfully, I am scared of this type of love. Romantic love, to me, have its branches. I’m afraid of possessive love the most – the one where you have an unhealthy feeling of wanting someone only for yourself and vice versa. There’s just a lot of things about romantic love that I’m scared of. I… can’t help it.
  5. Respect
    The kind of love I feel for friends, and sometimes, some guys I had a crush on. Respect is a lot like love, and maybe even loyalty too. I don’t take sides. If friend A and friend B are at each other’s throats, I don’t take sides. If they should choose me as someone to confide in, I’ll listen to both sides of the story and keep what I know to myself. I respect them that way. I’ll feel concerned if something happens to any of them. I don’t pry more than I’m allowed to know. I just try to be a good friend. I may not answer their texts sometimes, but that’s mainly because I have no credit left to reply with. Sad, I know…

Categorising people are bad, my Mom said. But I don’t categorise people per se. She misunderstood me. I just categorise love. And she said she couldn’t understand my types of love. I thought I was being clear enough. Frank enough. Apparently, she didn’t think so. She still doesn’t think so.

She insists that normal people are born to feel love. Normal people are born to love. It’s natural to feel love and to be loved. But what I would like to say is: It is also common to not be born normal.

Guh. All these are hurting my braincells. I still need to finish my travel logs. I’ll probably backdate them anyway.