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This time, I'm in my history of psychology class. As I listen to my teacher, I stop to reflect on the dream I had last night. It's strange, it seems that my brain has grown fond of the time when I was around twelve years old. I wonder if something really important happened during those years that my mind is trying to remind me of.
I try to get some kind of interpretation out of the dream. Was there something special about the professor? I mean, yes, it's true that he was a bit eccentric, but I don't remember him impacting my life in any way.
Or is it the fact that I didn't feel worthy of greater recognition at the time? The Impostor syndrome isn't something new to me. I know I've carried it with me for years.
Maybe it's that my brain has become obsessed with those boys I thought I was in love with. Now I know that it wasn't true love, but rather something like a childish attraction for the beauty that I perceived in them. But nothing too intense or too strong.
Yes, it's true that I became obsessed with the idea of being loved. The romance stories I read and the movies conditioned me to think that I'd never be truly happy if I didn't have a boyfriend. I was completely brainwashed and didn't feel complete without my other half. In perspective and if I think about it, I realize that it's a very harmful and very toxic belief. Perhaps this is why, for years, I desperately searched for someone to love me, so that I could erase my own unhappiness.
It's good to know that I at least realized it. This way I can now realize when I look for a partner simply searching for a solution to my own problems instead of a partner whom I genuinely love.
I shake my head, pushing all thoughts away. I need to focus.
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