"The truth of the matter is that - by an exorbitant paradox - I never stop believing that I am loved. I hallucinate what I desire. Each wound proceeds less from a doubt than from a betrayal: for only one who believes himself loved can be jealous: that the other, episodically, should fail in his being, which is to love me - that is the origin of all my woes. A delirium, however, does not exist unless one wakens from it (there are only retrospective deliriums): one day, I realise what has happened to me: I thought I was suffering from not being loved, and yet it is because I thought I was loved that I was suffering; I loved in the complication of supposing myself simultaneously loved and abandoned. Anyone hearing my intimate language would have had to explain, as of a difficult child: But after all, what does he want?"
Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse