Simply complicated

I love to think, comtemplate, analyse (and sometimes overanalyse). It's arguably a gift, and I have always loved it, the sensitivity to not only my thoughts & emotions, some say it's abt being emo & in touch with my feelings, I suppose... Never content to take anything at surface value, I thirst to consider, compare, control, conceptualize, conclude. Maybe that is the problem, with the supposed hunger for analysis, come an impression that I possess wisdom/intellect, and with it a (groundless?) feeling of self-sufficiency, a privilege & satisfaction knowing that my brainskills are an asset, to overcome difficulties no matter what or whose problems it is... having the capability to invent smarter solutions & seeing things that others might not 'see'.

Yet pride itself becomes the downfall of the self-professed intellectuals, that when a problem-free situation presents itself before us, plain, simple, unpretentious & coincidental... existing due to no effort of mine, it makes me feel like a fool, anything that comes easy can't be good. So no, since this is the simpleton's ready share in life, I deserve something better, and goes in search of something more - refusing to believe that what is simple can be good, what comes for free can be just as precious. Too smart for our own good - that's not a strength anymore.

Is this why we subject ourselves to be suckers for abuse? Hankering after what seems complicated, complexity thrills me, that is because I enjoy the ability solving mysteries & brainteasers, particularly if it comes in the form of a person. As a girl, I fell for the most intriguing men, the more unspoken troubles he has, the more attraction I feel - to be the one who holds the only key, able to access locked down chambers in their hearts to hear thoughts that are private to them and no one else - I liked being special in this way. Yes, it's typical of women, to go for men with a somewhat "dark" side.

Needless to say, all these previous relationship experiences have produced less than positive outcomes, leaving me with nothing more than emotional wounds, scars & even a heart that now walks the path of love with a limp, barely noticeable but still a nagging pain when memories overwhelm me. I finally gave up the pursuit of the complicated male mind, having had enough of battle wounds, abandoning complicated men, for a simpler one, who is easier to read & comprehend... not simpleminded, but simply easily contented, & NOT a deep thinker.

On one hand, simplicity complements my desire for complexity, coaxing me to lower my proud eyes to admit where happiness is concerned, the smartypants do not always end up better than the simpletons. I like this line in Tanya Chua's song WHY

"有些人对爱太清楚 却得不到幸福
有些人对爱很模糊 却偏偏找到路 "

Translated:
Some have clear ideas of love, but are unable to find true happiness
While some are clueless about love, yet end up on the right path.

At times I wonder about the mismatch between complicated & simple, whether differences will drive lovers apart more than how different perspectives can draw them nearer to each other. Yet 2 thinkers in love might be likened to each having a Pandora's box of secrets, hidden away from every living being. 2 locks, yet no key... forever wishing the other to open, yet forever afraid of the dark secrets in the other box, will it be as dark of those in their own?

Mystery intrigues & inspires, but I believe that true love resides in the sharing of hearts & minds, where there is no fear and no bondage, only freedom & transparency - ie, a common understanding & acceptance of 2 people, who have accepted themselves & are ready to accept the other, flaw & all.

1 Corinthians 1:27
But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.

When a partner tell me that I know him well, I can't help but ask if the reverse applies. So far, the answer has never been positive. I don't know why it is so, a reluctance to be understood? Or acceptance that being understood is not a pre-requisite to being loved. The saying "you don't have to understand a woman, you only have to love her" although cliche has certain weight to it possibly. Eventually I still ask myself, when I say he doesn't understand, is his knowledge of my personality, identity, likes & dislikes any indication of how deep our love is? No it is not, and at the moment, being "known" or not, seems to be of less importance to me than before. I hope it's because I am beginning to learn to appreciate the beauty of simplicity, derived from a complicated worldview.