The Meaning of Being Loved

Act 4 Chapter 1

Ever since I was young, I was simply known as “Lin’s twin sister.” Well, they have called me various names. Some variations include, the other daughter, the other Lin, or my favorite: Lin if she were happy. Every time the topic’s brought up people were either asking “How did you let that happen?” or “Why are you still laughing? You should’ve been angry!” The answer to both was, and still is, “I don’t know.” That’s just how I react to things, I guess. I’m just naturally optimistic and occasionally got unlucky. Because, why are we here if it’s not to find joy? Why are we even here, if it’s not to laugh at the face of tragedy and treat life as a comedy?

But it’s not all bad here. I did (and still do) have friends that acknowledge me as a unique entity separated of Lin. In fact, I’d say I did a pretty good job making meaningful connection with other people! I was involved in several clubs and activities. All of which demanded my full attention. I mean, I didn’t know what I want, why not all? I never understood how people choose, how people determine the “priority” of pleasure and therefore trying a subset of things while disregarding the other. If I have to guess there must be a system at play here, right? Maybe they judge things based on deadline proximity. Maybe they give a fixed amount of time to do things. Maybe they judge things based on effort needed. I know for sure it’s not based on how bored and lonely you are right now.

When I got back home, I didn’t need to prepare a story about how my days went to my parents. They’re usually absent anyway. They’re too busy trying to find the things my sister asked for, and it got more and more absurd each year. You just have to be there when they’re looking for a “Dopamine Box”. They almost had a heart attack thinking their beloved, gifted, daughter was going to be a sick addict. But on rare occasions when they did ask about how I felt, I simply told them,

“Nothing much happened. It’s all good!”

Which they always responded well, unlike when I was clearly in the need of something. It’s been a recurring thing in my childhood that speaking about my needs, especially the ugly, emotional needs, would lead to dissatisfaction. I feel like sometimes they saw Lin’s hyper-independence and thought that should apply to me too. But I’m not like her, I think with my heart most of the time. So, I can’t really be separated from my emotional needs. At some point my parents noticed this, and so did my sister. They simply gave me something to put my mind off of things. At first it was a set of coloring pencil, then a digicam, and most recently an acoustic guitar. But it seems like they’re more willing to give me everything than to teach me about the meaning of being loved.

As I grow older I just got used to it. It seems like once again I had to pull myself out of this sticky situation. Sometimes tragedies were so trivial they’re not worth crying for. Sometimes people liked you better if you’re funny and down to earth. Sometimes jumping from one thing to another was the best way to know what you truly wanted. Sometimes indulging in pleasure is the key to feel alive, and loved. This is it. I think I’ve figured it out!