We've fought before. A lot of times before. We had fallout's just like this happen more than the number of fingers I have on one hand. What's different now is how the fallout spiraled out of control and how the spiraling point, was me. Our fights never lasted long because she'd get worried or missed me too much so she'd call me up and talk to me about what I did wrong. It was always about what I did wrong. I'd fight back. I'd retaliated, to which she'd yelled arguments back at. Then I'd calm down and see the wrong in my actions and apologize. That's what she's good at. Making you see something that was there before. She could make the most illogical thing sound like it was the most practical thing in the whole world and everything else trying to prove that it isn't, is completely wrong and totally playing out of key. We'd usually fight because she did something that hurt my feelings and I'd take it too far by making sure she knew that she had hurt my feelings with any means necessary. This time was no different. The spiraling point was the moment I texted her, "Leave."
It was about support. Her lack of support towards me, towards the things that interest me but not her, towards her never muttering a single positive, encouraging, congratulatory thing to me despite me doing well in something. It's something that's been bothering me lately. Just eating away at me whenever I achieved something. So, when she refused to watch this video I was trying to show her, it wasn't even an important video or anything, but I just wanted to show her all 5 seconds of it, I asked her why couldn't she just do this one, little thing for me. She said that she just didn't want to. She didn't want to bend over backwards, or in this case, turn her fucking head, for me. That's when I told her, "then leave." And, she did.
What's different this time, is that I suggested for her to leave. I've never done that before. She has always been the one hellbent on saying it whenever we fight but I never did. This was the first time I had done that. So, she left. I continued to text her about what she did that hurt me and how I was hurt and how she could've fixed shit if she wanted to. She replied a few times until idk maybe she got tired or something, then the replies stopped. My attempts to get through to her stopped too.
We didn't keep in touch at all. Today's the second day and she just texted an hour ago, telling me that I had to pass something to a friend of ours once her stuff arrives, to which I replied as formally as how her text came. I then proceeded to send her another text, apologizing about how our fight had to happen so near finals and how I hope she was doing okay and focusing enough on her studies. She replied "thank you". The end. There wasn't anything left to say after that.
This time's different because there's actually a really high possibility that things will never be the same between us ever again. Because I don't want to get back together with her, unless she changes her ways. I'm not saying I did no wrong or that I've been a flawless boyfriend, but I honestly think that all the bad stuff she did to me completely outweigh all the bad stuff I've ever done to her. And I just can't take it anymore. I have to decide whether this is the kind of life I want to keep living. I have to decide whether this is the person I want to keep loving. I have to decided whether this is the best option for me.
No. No to all of them. Of course, there's no telling whether my feelings for her will always be this strong as time passes although I do know for a fact that I'll always have a soft spot for her. Her own permanent space in my heart. I just, I cannot do this anymore. I am no longer happy because the sad, troubled times leave a deeper impression than the happy ones. I'm not happy because of I think and have always thought that she could do better. She could do better at making me feel better. She could do better in treating me better. I think I've been deeply wronged in this aspect. Wronged by her and her actions.
But as much as she makes me want to strangle her until maturity finally seeps into that stupid, thick head of hers, I'm so scared of losing her. Because at the end of the day, no one can change the fact that I love her as much as she loves me. Our love is there. Our love is in existence. Our love is equal. The way I've been treated is not. Sigh. I'm so scared that this would turn out to be a mistake, that it was all me, all out of my head. I'm so scared that I did this to the both of us. Although I know it's both of our fault that we've become so destructive and toxic, I can't help but think that, we still had a chance. And by doing all this, I've fucked up that chance. I've sent it on a a train, with a one-way ticket to the shredding machine.
I'm so afraid of losing her.
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Thursday, October 27, 2016
Rusty Bean
You can't tell me she isn't beautiful. You can't tell me you don't like looking at her. You can't tell me to stop loving her. She is so beautiful, although not all the time, but that makes me cherish even more the times when she's so perfect to me that nothing else in this world exists. Maybe it's because the light has shot her right, or it's because of the way she's seated, or the music playing in the background, but I just can't look anywhere else right now. She's too beautiful.
She's so beautiful.
I wish I could write a song in remembrance of this moment, but time has proven to me that I'm as good at song writing as I was good at ping pong. I play it every now and then, mostly with my bedroom wall(just the way I liked it actually). I was okay at it, nothing to shout about. Just like my lyric-writing skills. I guess I do both for my own pleasure and nothing else. Hmm, I really enjoy doing them.
What do I talk about now? I think I'll share a little about school. School is hectic, although I don't look it. I'm running out of time to study for my subjects. I'm currently behind in all five of them. I hope I won't actually do shit for them. God, I wish Lyn would stop distracting me from my studies. If she just acted her fucking age, I wouldn't be struggling so much for my studies. I'm not a bad student, but with the wrong people, I can be the fucking shit on the fan.
But fuck, she's beautiful.
She's so beautiful.
I wish I could write a song in remembrance of this moment, but time has proven to me that I'm as good at song writing as I was good at ping pong. I play it every now and then, mostly with my bedroom wall(just the way I liked it actually). I was okay at it, nothing to shout about. Just like my lyric-writing skills. I guess I do both for my own pleasure and nothing else. Hmm, I really enjoy doing them.
What do I talk about now? I think I'll share a little about school. School is hectic, although I don't look it. I'm running out of time to study for my subjects. I'm currently behind in all five of them. I hope I won't actually do shit for them. God, I wish Lyn would stop distracting me from my studies. If she just acted her fucking age, I wouldn't be struggling so much for my studies. I'm not a bad student, but with the wrong people, I can be the fucking shit on the fan.
But fuck, she's beautiful.
Monday, October 24, 2016
Queen
I gave her all that I had in my wallet, and in my heart. No, I was not deceived. She did not emotionally and physically trick me into doing anything. It really hurts when two people are equally deep in something, but that something just can't seem to work out. It's kind of like lighting something on fire, expecting a bright, hot flame to appear before you but instead, you got this...this little source of light and heat. Although it's too bright to be missed, its too minute, too insignificant to be anything else. So, it kind of just stays there. And you wonder, will it ever die out?
I wonder all the time. During the ups, during the downs. Every turn in our relationship, I would take a step back and think about where this would take us. If it would be taking us anywhere at all. If I were being completely honest with myself, I've dropped so far from where I was. Maybe she and I was never meant to be something good, something productive. Wait.
I take that back.
It is something good. Maybe not productive, it really is good. I enjoyed myself when I was allowed the opportunity to. The sad times I would say, are an exact equal to the happy times. As high I felt, as low I'd go. It's like everything is reflected back to me with an equal intensity. I don't really know what I'm saying, but I have nothing in my pockets, nothing in my stomach and nothing in my chest right now. And it's killing me. I'm not sure why I decided to go up to her and dropped all my money onto her desk and walked away like I was made of titanium. I'm not made of titanium. I'm made of paper. Easily written on, written off. Torn. When I walked out of that computer lab, I was as torn as I could possibly be in this life. I think that scene happened because I was trying to get a reaction out of her. I wanted to see what she'd do. What she'd do to me. I was the most excited and intrigued audience in a theater playing the film of my life. So pathetic.
Nothing happened. I gave away my money as easily as I gave away my heart. Funny though, because both things actually meant more to me that I ever dared to admit. But she must have known. She must have known that she mattered more than any of those things. She must have known that she mattered the most.
Doesn't matter. I'm not good enough for love. I can't be. And at this point, I don't really want to be.
Saturday, September 17, 2016
Kimi No Nawa (Your Name)
I've always acknowledged and respected the fact that there are some really great Anime's out there. Amazingly crafted Anime's that were just as good as any of those blockbuster movies. Actually, blockbuster movies aren't all that awesome anymore. Blockbusters are mainstream shit. And most mainstream shit are shit that have lost their way. They've lost their art, their soul. So, you know what? I take that back. The Anime I just watched deserve better. It definitely deserves better than to be lumped together and compared to mainstream shit like blockbusters.
Sundance Film Awards. You know, those indie films that get nominated or actually win those indie film awards. Now those, are the movies that everyone should be looking at. Those are truly what we call, art. Every film that is nominated or have won, earned their way to it. There's soul and there's spirit. There's everything an art form should possess. Alright, so this Anime, Kimi No Kawa, is pretty good. Although it didn't make me lose my shit crying over it, it was touching. It pulled at you at the right moments and it pulled at you with sort of the right amount. It was a light, enjoyable watch that made me appreciate the little things. I don't exactly know why it had evoked such emotions within me, but I feel a little sad with a tinge of lightness after watching it. And I don't know how feeling sad or light would make me appreciate the little things more but, that's how I feel right now. Appreciative. A little sad. And very very light. Maybe it's because I'm falling asleep and it's light-headed I feel instead of light. I do not know.
There's a pretty awesome soundtrack backing the already magnificent film, especially the ending number. I think it's called "Sparkle".
The movie was sweet. It was very sweet. Yeah. Night.
Friday, September 16, 2016
Make-Up Sex
Make-up sex isn't what most people think it to be. It isn't two people, lying in bed, having sex, with their respective make-up on. Ha-ha, I joke I joke. Okay. Make-up sex. What is it? It is the love-making that takes place post-argument/fight/break-ups with your partner. It's like the honeymoon phase of all breakups or fights that couples go through, that is, if the couple manages to continue staying together post-breakups/fights. Yes, my little honeymoon phase happened yesterday. I intended to write about it yesterday but fatigue and other reasons that may or may not involve the downloading of a Korean simulation game called Mystic Messenger have gotten the best of me. SO, as you know, my baby and I had yet another serious fallout a few days back. It started on Sunday and I was the cause of it and it was really serious because it was the first time Lyn intended not to get back with me after the fallout we had. I know this because her ex-roommate a.k.a best friend told me. And I know it was serious, way more serious than any of the past fights we had because although we've always fought and we've always ignored each other for a certain amount of time after the fight, never was there time where Lyn said no to getting back together. It was always at the back of her head and mine too, that'd we'd find our way back to each other at the end of the day. But this time, it was not like that. So, that obviously had me worried and days went by with me moping and crying and playing alive when I was really fucking dead on the inside. I didn't want to talk to anyone and I didn't want to do anything. My only thought was her. You'd know this by reading my previous update.
Okay, so. The fallout was critical. And I actually thought and believed that we were never getting back together after this. I mean, if you had seen how it was between she and I when we saw each other in school, you'd know what I'm talking about. Long story short, four days had passedwithout us seeing each other(without texting or calling too) and Tuesday was the first day we were supposed to meet face-to-face because we had classes together but that didn't happen because I went to class whereas she did not. She had totally ditched the classes we had together, most probably in effort to avoid seeing my face. That was already a major let-down to me because she's never avoided me like that before. To add kerosene to the burning flame, the second morning was even worse because she actually came to class and sat where she usually sat -next to me, but not a single word was exchanged between us. Not even a glance from her. Me? I was obviously doing what I can to inconspicuously take quick glances at her because I FUCKING MISSED HER. But she was cold. Her face was a stone wall. When she finally did say something to me, it was harsh and brief and work-related. She didn't give two flying shits about the person sitting next to her. When class ended, she was off. It happened faster than a white kid shooting down people in his high school library. She undoubtedly did not want my company wherever she was headed. I, of course, followed her. Not like, immediately because that would be too damn obvious. Gotta give credits to my CIA-alter-ego.
I knew she was headed to the library to meet up with her best friend so my feet kind of levitated there involuntarily. I got myself settled down at our library's self-study zone and decided that it was best to just let go of things and focused on getting some of my work done. When I was about to start, my phone lighted up. Sunshine. She was under the weather and wanted to go sleep at our usual napping spot. She asked if I was coming. HELL YEAH BABY and off I went to the greatest(and only) love of my life. Her stone wall deconstructed after meeting up with me again after our very cold and awkward meet-up in class and things were back to normal.
That evening was our first make-up sex.
I got her home and told her to sleep. She laid on her bed, a thin layer of mattress, with her phone in hand. I laid quietly next to her while she gamed. Sometimes, my arm would dangle over her, pulling her closer to me as we laid there. Other times, I'd be laying to one side on my own or facing up, and she'd come to me. She'd entangle her arm with mine and hugged it while she continued tapping away on her phone. Then, the lights went dim but not our souls. She started the fire and I melted with her every touch. I gave back as soon as I turned molten. We bought our first sex toy about a month back. It was our intention to use it during our overnight stay at the beach resort but that didn't work out. We put it to good use that night though. It started out slow, then the appetite in us grew and grew and grew and we did what we could to satiate ourselves, to satiate each other. We did not go at it for long as I was short on time and had to go home. But it was not a night for losses. On the contrary, we gained. We gained so much more than either of us knew we would.
The day after that glorious night, equipped with our newfound knowledge and feelings, we quickly reached an agreement -to get ourselves back to her house as soon as we can and stay there for as long as we can, which we did. I started driving in her direction at 7.20 in the morning and reached around 7.45. We did not do jump straight into the love wagon right away as she was still feeling groggy from the night before(she had a fever and a real bad flu). It was after her morning shower and the completion of her revision for the test we had in the evening(financial statistics) when we began to feel our emotions stir. I geared up and she readied herself in anxiousness. The familiar feelings from the night before must have hit her hard because the moment after I slid in, the force of her legs pushed up strongly against my backside made me slid in even further. This made her moan in a way that made my heart race and the warmth between my thighs tingle. It made me want more and need more. The fact that she was the one who strongly(and I do mean strong) urged me into filling her up even deeper made my brain cells explode in ecstasy. She wanted this as much as I did. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and knowing this was better than knowing anything else in the world.
We had slow moments, but they didn't last very long or happened very often because slow was reserved for the beginning of our love-making and for the end(temporary) of her climax, before things get hot and breathless between us again. Our pace was usually fast, speedy and in-depth. Her moans and the way she held on to me revealed that she preferred it to be fast and hard. Fast because friction(the right amount of it) equals sensational sensations and hard because she likes to be rammed up against, always has. She likes the pressure, I guess. And she likes that we move together, like one, when it's fast-paced. If I move up, she moves up. If I move down, she follows. It's hot. Ha-ha.
What's even hotter is the sounds she makes. Oh God, thinking about them and thinking about her, I can feel myself feel things down there. All sorts of good, giddy things. I want her voice to linger in my ear. I want her body stamped into the back of my retinas. I want her arms to enfold me forever and ever. And I want her fingers, tangled deep in my hair. I want her now and I will always want her.
We made love three/four times, that morning. In a span of two hours at most. If it wasn't for school, we would've taken even longer. That was the day we couldn't take our hands off each other for more than 20 seconds. It got so heated and so fucking passionate that we even took things to the bathroom. Yes, the bathroom. I've always fantasized about sex in the shower. How it'd feel to have water dripping down your hair, your back, everywhere while two bodies stick so closely to one another. What it'd be like for water to lubricate her. How it'd feel to eat her out while she stood against the wall, crumpling slowly, gradually sinking to the floor because the sensations were too much for her knees to handle. After yesterday, I'm glad to say I get how it is now. I understand that the water trickling down your back makes you feel refreshed and even more energized to satisfy your lover. I understand that the water between her thighs makes her feel like she's being turned on like never before. And I understand that when it gets too much for her to stay standing up as your tongue deliver her waves and waves of euphoria, she'd have to come down to the floor and so do you and you'll just have to grab the dildo, slide in into one of your fingers(forefinger), and start fingering her but with a silicon-based cock with a hard-on wrapped around the finger that sends her into an orgasmic frenzy.
Yeah, I totally get it.
Wet in bed and wet in shower are two very, very different things that deliver two very different feelings. It is highly recommended that shower sex happens often but not as often as sex in bed. If you overdo something, it might start losing its appeal, no? So yeah. Learned a heck lot of things this week. Learned that I can't be without her. Learned that there's so much about myself that needs a fixer-upper. Learned that she's worth it. Learned that she loves me. Learned that I need her both sexually and emotionally. God, I love the sex.
And God, I love her.
Okay, so. The fallout was critical. And I actually thought and believed that we were never getting back together after this. I mean, if you had seen how it was between she and I when we saw each other in school, you'd know what I'm talking about. Long story short, four days had passedwithout us seeing each other(without texting or calling too) and Tuesday was the first day we were supposed to meet face-to-face because we had classes together but that didn't happen because I went to class whereas she did not. She had totally ditched the classes we had together, most probably in effort to avoid seeing my face. That was already a major let-down to me because she's never avoided me like that before. To add kerosene to the burning flame, the second morning was even worse because she actually came to class and sat where she usually sat -next to me, but not a single word was exchanged between us. Not even a glance from her. Me? I was obviously doing what I can to inconspicuously take quick glances at her because I FUCKING MISSED HER. But she was cold. Her face was a stone wall. When she finally did say something to me, it was harsh and brief and work-related. She didn't give two flying shits about the person sitting next to her. When class ended, she was off. It happened faster than a white kid shooting down people in his high school library. She undoubtedly did not want my company wherever she was headed. I, of course, followed her. Not like, immediately because that would be too damn obvious. Gotta give credits to my CIA-alter-ego.
I knew she was headed to the library to meet up with her best friend so my feet kind of levitated there involuntarily. I got myself settled down at our library's self-study zone and decided that it was best to just let go of things and focused on getting some of my work done. When I was about to start, my phone lighted up. Sunshine. She was under the weather and wanted to go sleep at our usual napping spot. She asked if I was coming. HELL YEAH BABY and off I went to the greatest(and only) love of my life. Her stone wall deconstructed after meeting up with me again after our very cold and awkward meet-up in class and things were back to normal.
That evening was our first make-up sex.
I got her home and told her to sleep. She laid on her bed, a thin layer of mattress, with her phone in hand. I laid quietly next to her while she gamed. Sometimes, my arm would dangle over her, pulling her closer to me as we laid there. Other times, I'd be laying to one side on my own or facing up, and she'd come to me. She'd entangle her arm with mine and hugged it while she continued tapping away on her phone. Then, the lights went dim but not our souls. She started the fire and I melted with her every touch. I gave back as soon as I turned molten. We bought our first sex toy about a month back. It was our intention to use it during our overnight stay at the beach resort but that didn't work out. We put it to good use that night though. It started out slow, then the appetite in us grew and grew and grew and we did what we could to satiate ourselves, to satiate each other. We did not go at it for long as I was short on time and had to go home. But it was not a night for losses. On the contrary, we gained. We gained so much more than either of us knew we would.
The day after that glorious night, equipped with our newfound knowledge and feelings, we quickly reached an agreement -to get ourselves back to her house as soon as we can and stay there for as long as we can, which we did. I started driving in her direction at 7.20 in the morning and reached around 7.45. We did not do jump straight into the love wagon right away as she was still feeling groggy from the night before(she had a fever and a real bad flu). It was after her morning shower and the completion of her revision for the test we had in the evening(financial statistics) when we began to feel our emotions stir. I geared up and she readied herself in anxiousness. The familiar feelings from the night before must have hit her hard because the moment after I slid in, the force of her legs pushed up strongly against my backside made me slid in even further. This made her moan in a way that made my heart race and the warmth between my thighs tingle. It made me want more and need more. The fact that she was the one who strongly(and I do mean strong) urged me into filling her up even deeper made my brain cells explode in ecstasy. She wanted this as much as I did. She wanted me as much as I wanted her, and knowing this was better than knowing anything else in the world.
We had slow moments, but they didn't last very long or happened very often because slow was reserved for the beginning of our love-making and for the end(temporary) of her climax, before things get hot and breathless between us again. Our pace was usually fast, speedy and in-depth. Her moans and the way she held on to me revealed that she preferred it to be fast and hard. Fast because friction(the right amount of it) equals sensational sensations and hard because she likes to be rammed up against, always has. She likes the pressure, I guess. And she likes that we move together, like one, when it's fast-paced. If I move up, she moves up. If I move down, she follows. It's hot. Ha-ha.
What's even hotter is the sounds she makes. Oh God, thinking about them and thinking about her, I can feel myself feel things down there. All sorts of good, giddy things. I want her voice to linger in my ear. I want her body stamped into the back of my retinas. I want her arms to enfold me forever and ever. And I want her fingers, tangled deep in my hair. I want her now and I will always want her.
We made love three/four times, that morning. In a span of two hours at most. If it wasn't for school, we would've taken even longer. That was the day we couldn't take our hands off each other for more than 20 seconds. It got so heated and so fucking passionate that we even took things to the bathroom. Yes, the bathroom. I've always fantasized about sex in the shower. How it'd feel to have water dripping down your hair, your back, everywhere while two bodies stick so closely to one another. What it'd be like for water to lubricate her. How it'd feel to eat her out while she stood against the wall, crumpling slowly, gradually sinking to the floor because the sensations were too much for her knees to handle. After yesterday, I'm glad to say I get how it is now. I understand that the water trickling down your back makes you feel refreshed and even more energized to satisfy your lover. I understand that the water between her thighs makes her feel like she's being turned on like never before. And I understand that when it gets too much for her to stay standing up as your tongue deliver her waves and waves of euphoria, she'd have to come down to the floor and so do you and you'll just have to grab the dildo, slide in into one of your fingers(forefinger), and start fingering her but with a silicon-based cock with a hard-on wrapped around the finger that sends her into an orgasmic frenzy.
Yeah, I totally get it.
Wet in bed and wet in shower are two very, very different things that deliver two very different feelings. It is highly recommended that shower sex happens often but not as often as sex in bed. If you overdo something, it might start losing its appeal, no? So yeah. Learned a heck lot of things this week. Learned that I can't be without her. Learned that there's so much about myself that needs a fixer-upper. Learned that she's worth it. Learned that she loves me. Learned that I need her both sexually and emotionally. God, I love the sex.
And God, I love her.
Monday, September 12, 2016
I'm Ready Now
We both have problems. It's time I understand that it isn't just you. We both are problematic. And that is why our relationship has come to a stage like this. A stage of no turning back. I don't know if you know about the problems you bring into our relationship, but I was wrong for always thinking that all problems resided in you, were caused by you. In reality, I was as equally at fault as you are. Maybe even more.
We started out like this. I liked you. You caught my eyes more than a few times. I didn't think I'd act on it, my feelings. I thought you were just another pretty thing to me. It wasn't my first time admiring something beautiful from afar. I've done this before, and this time wasn't supposed to be any different. But it was.
I didn't know who you were. I mean yeah, I knew your name. I knew the subjects you were taking. I knew what you wore to class. I knew you wore glasses. Superficial information, I knew. But anything in depth, I didn't. I didn't know you had an appetite of a kitten. I didn't know you had a strong sense of self-righteousness. I didn't know you're your dad's favorite. I didn't know you once stopped talking to your mom for a year over a fight(you said it was her fault). I didn't know how different you were from everybody else I knew or had known. I didn't know who you were.
I liked you before I got to know you. My feelings began way before my first words were delivered your way. My heart beat not when I first saw you, it started beating when you smiled. When I thought you smiled at me. You always said that you weren't smiling at me, that you just happened to smile at my general direction and I over-analyzed it. But that misinterpretation became the stepping stone for the both of us. My over-analysis brought us together. It's sad to say that my over-analysis also, tore us apart.
The first time we spoke, you weren't in a good mood. We had a class project, one which required us to be out of class and being photographed -two activities you weren't superbly fond of. Of course, you do love being out of class, granted that the class is actually taking place -just without you in it. You always shunned cameras held in the hands of others though. Even I, your boyfriend, had a hard time taking pictures of you, not because you weren't photogenic or because I was a bad photographer but because you wouldn't let me. You wouldn't let anyone take pictures of you. You were worried that you'd look bad in them, and God forbid that a shit photo of you were taken. I'm proud to announce that you eased up to it though, to me. I slowly but finally became the only person in your life who you'd allow pictures of you, both good and bad, to be taken. Anyways, back to the story. We had to be outside of class and we had to be photographed while doing that(stupid shit-ass assignment).
All 28 of us were crowded outside our university cafe. There was a nice garden scenery and we thought it'd be nice to have a photo of the class taken there. The weather was a sweat-stimulating one, too hot and too bright to be anywhere outside of an air-conditioned room. Everyone was pushed up against one another under the cafe shade in attempt to hide ourselves from the sunlight. Everyone but you. You, haha, you were out there, seated at one of the cafe's un-shaded tables with one of your elbows propped up against it, supporting the weight of your head while sunlight with the heat of an all-out Bunsen Burner shone down on you. You were at the edge of isolation, just where you wanted to be. Some of us were looking at you, staring at the girl who seemingly didn't have heat receptors because if the sweat formed under you shirt hadn't gotten on your nerves, the heat trapped in your cardigan probably would have. But it didn't. You stayed rooted at that cafe table, under the sunlight and out in that ridiculous heat.
My friends and I joked about how high your heat tolerance must be. My mind kept twisting, trying to find more reasons to talk about you to my friends because I didn't have the courage yet, to go up and talk to you myself. Then, snap. I knew I had to do it. I knew because the weather was being horrible and that you were completely alone, looking like you were about to doze off under the hot sun and under your many layers of clothing that were probably drenched in sweat that I had to talk to you. That this was a great opportunity to talk to you. Because I could talk about the weather to you. About how it was so hot and like, aren't you hot, why don't we go inside and we can find a nice, cool spot for us to continue our chat at. So, off I went.
I think it happened like this. Actually, I'm sure it happened like this.
Me: Hey, aren't you hot? (since you can barely open your eyes because it was so goddamn bright)
You: *looks at me* *looks away*
Me: It's really hot out here, no?
You: *looks at me again* no *looks away again*
Me: Really? You're not hot?
You: I'm not hot (you said this without looking at me)
Me: You don't wanna go inside?
You: No.
Me: You sure?
You: *sighs* *grunts* *looks annoyed and borderline pissed*
Me: *scampers away at the speed of light*
So, you didn't want to talk. I got the memo and ran. I literally ran. I'm not sure where I went but it wasn't back to my friends because the next time I came outs again, I saw you sitting at the same place you were at, with one of my friends towering over you. I didn't know what the hell she was thinking but the next thing I know, she was back here with me. And then suddenly, she had one of the class cameras in her hand and she was busy taking pictures of you, right next to me. I must have looked dazed, confused, probably even angry because why the fuck are you taking pictures of my crush? I think I asked my friend about what went down between you and her but she just laughed, "she(you) says she's not hot." I stopped asking more because I didn't want to sound like I wanted to know more and to give away how fucking pissed I was. I then proceeded to snap my own photos of her with the other class camera because why the fuck not. I thought my photos of her were tons better than the ones my friends took. Bitch.
We moved to the library, our next photo-shoot location and that was where my friend further pissed me off. That bitch must have seen me attempt to start a conversation with you at one the reading tables(didn't work out) because the next thing I know, again, she was right fucking there. Seated opposite you, with a big book of whatever-the-fuck-that-was opened up in front of her while her lips moved quickly, saying who-the-fuck-knows-what to you. And you responded. You said some things to her in reply to her conversation starter. And that ticked me off because when I tried it with you, no response whatsoever was given. It was like you couldn't even be bothered with me. I was offended. I was hugely offended because you! were! my! crush! but! I! wasn't! the! one! you! talked! to!!! Instead, it was this bitch I called my friend who got through to you.
It was days later when I was told by my bitch of a friend that she had started texting you, and that you were replying her. She told me that our class assignment day(Saturday, I remembered), wasn't a good day for you and you had told my friend off at the library when she was trying so annoyingly hard to get your attention and to talk to you. She said you sort of scolded her and told her that she was annoying you. I laughed at that because ha, desperate much, bitch? But my joy was cut short when I was told that it was because of that incident, that you guys had started chatting through texts. Apparently, you felt bad for what you did to my friend, so you asked someone for her number and texted her to apologize for your actions. I remember being torn about that because you did somewhat the same thing to me too, but only texted her. It meant only she had left an impression on you, not me.
After all that, I kind of just let go. After all, it was still just a crush. It didn't get far enough to have that strong of a hold on me just yet. So, I decided to turn a blind eye and let things happen the way it should happen. I'm not sure what happened between the time when I decided to let go and our first individual presentation for one of our classes, but after seeing your presentation in class and how scared, nervous you were for it, I couldn't help but scratch that itch I had been feeling. I asked my friend for your number and texted you the night of your presentation. I congratulated you on your performance and tried to hold a conversation with you. You didn't sound like you were into talking to me but I pursued until I couldn't. The next few days were like that too. I'd text you and you'd give me short, brushing-you-off-ish replies.It was very demotivating but somehow, I managed to continue my pursuits. Surprisingly, you got better. Yeah, you got better at texting me and I didn't feel as bad as before. Long story short, you chose me. In the end, you picked me over your long line of admirers. It wasn't without a crapload of obstacles and hardships but we pulled through.
The first few months we were together, it was pure joy. It was the kind of happiness that's innocent, exciting and nervous. However, fights broke out sooner than I thought they would. I wished they hadn't. We would fight, make up, fight again and make up again. Weird enough, as the arguments grew more heated, so would we. Passion sparked between the two of us like never before and I could never not want to touch you. I could never not want to be near you. I had to be near you. Always.
Things got complicated when your ex came into the picture. That was when our break-ups started to happen. It turned from fights-makeups to breakups-makeups. And then, things between you and my best friends turned sour over something dramatic-me did. Everything was downhill from then on.
The worst parts of us revealed themselves and they clawed at each other. They clawed till both of us bled, till both of us couldn't take it anymore. Of course, we always got back together in the end. We learned to take hits. We learned to stay together while always secretly blaming each other when arguments occurred. We learned to survive the lies. We learned to live with chaos.
I need to be blamed for most of our arguments because although you may be in the wrong when the arguments first started, there were so many ways, better ways, I could've handled the situation. I always blamed you for making big things out of nothings. Little did I know, I was doing the same. If I could've just, stoped being me for two minutes, collisions could've been avoided. We might have had an actual chance in working things out instead of just letting shit hit the fan and then putting the fan back up again, uncleaned, waiting for it to be hit by shit again. If I could just hold back a little bit more, if I could just stay cool for a little longer, maybe we wouldn't have been to the places we were at.
I always blamed you. Whenever we had a fight, I'd always blame you. Without fail. My first instinct would be to blame you. I'd yell at you, I'd abuse you with words to let you know how much you were being blamed for our downfall. And you'd yell back, telling me that I was the one to blame and that I had to learn to take my own hits and own up to them. I never sincerely admitted that it was my fault. I mean, whenever I had to admit that I was to blame when we were making up, although yes, I was sincere about being sorry and how it was my fault, it was never without a hinge of anger and dissatisfaction. Anger because I felt like I was always being blamed for something that was clearly your fault. Dissatisfaction because why was I the only one being blamed? What about your mistakes? Why don't you ever see your actions as mistakes?
But now, I know. I know that it's not about blaming you or me or anyone else when things go wrong. It's about understanding and accepting that you are blamed not because they did no wrong, but because you did wrong at one point. They might have been wrong too, but the moral of the story is don't blame others before blaming yourself. Take a good look at what you did and what you could've done to avoid this from happening. Everybody's brain works differently. All of us see things, do things, speak of things differently. What is 3 for me doesn't mean it's 3 for someone else.
A spiteful and sarcastic question asked out of anger to me, could've just been an innocent question asked out of confusion to you. I've been blaming you when I should've been blaming myself all along. And I've been crying for all the wrong reasons and for all the wrong things all along.
I know that now. It took me a year and four months to understand this. It took me two days of silence from you for me to finally figure this out. It took a potential actual break up for me to know how wrong I have been since the beginning of us. It took potentially losing you to finally learn to see myself for my mistakes. Potentially because I am still unsure whether we will get back together after this. What's new is that you've never gone this long without contacting me before, you've never once responded after I texted and called you, and you've never changed your WhatsApp profile picture whenever we fought before.
If it really is over between us, I hope you will understand how sorry I am for screwing things up and for not being able to change to be better like I so greatly promised you. If you do leave, I can only say that I'm glad you're leaving someone as shitty and damaged as I am behind. I love you but I am not healthy for you and I will not force you into something so dark anymore. And I do not think I should be involved with anyone after this.
I've never really talked about our beginnings and how I felt about you here. I was never ready before. I'm not completely sure why I wasn't but now, I think I finally am.
I'm ready to talk about you now.
We started out like this. I liked you. You caught my eyes more than a few times. I didn't think I'd act on it, my feelings. I thought you were just another pretty thing to me. It wasn't my first time admiring something beautiful from afar. I've done this before, and this time wasn't supposed to be any different. But it was.
I didn't know who you were. I mean yeah, I knew your name. I knew the subjects you were taking. I knew what you wore to class. I knew you wore glasses. Superficial information, I knew. But anything in depth, I didn't. I didn't know you had an appetite of a kitten. I didn't know you had a strong sense of self-righteousness. I didn't know you're your dad's favorite. I didn't know you once stopped talking to your mom for a year over a fight(you said it was her fault). I didn't know how different you were from everybody else I knew or had known. I didn't know who you were.
I liked you before I got to know you. My feelings began way before my first words were delivered your way. My heart beat not when I first saw you, it started beating when you smiled. When I thought you smiled at me. You always said that you weren't smiling at me, that you just happened to smile at my general direction and I over-analyzed it. But that misinterpretation became the stepping stone for the both of us. My over-analysis brought us together. It's sad to say that my over-analysis also, tore us apart.
The first time we spoke, you weren't in a good mood. We had a class project, one which required us to be out of class and being photographed -two activities you weren't superbly fond of. Of course, you do love being out of class, granted that the class is actually taking place -just without you in it. You always shunned cameras held in the hands of others though. Even I, your boyfriend, had a hard time taking pictures of you, not because you weren't photogenic or because I was a bad photographer but because you wouldn't let me. You wouldn't let anyone take pictures of you. You were worried that you'd look bad in them, and God forbid that a shit photo of you were taken. I'm proud to announce that you eased up to it though, to me. I slowly but finally became the only person in your life who you'd allow pictures of you, both good and bad, to be taken. Anyways, back to the story. We had to be outside of class and we had to be photographed while doing that(stupid shit-ass assignment).
All 28 of us were crowded outside our university cafe. There was a nice garden scenery and we thought it'd be nice to have a photo of the class taken there. The weather was a sweat-stimulating one, too hot and too bright to be anywhere outside of an air-conditioned room. Everyone was pushed up against one another under the cafe shade in attempt to hide ourselves from the sunlight. Everyone but you. You, haha, you were out there, seated at one of the cafe's un-shaded tables with one of your elbows propped up against it, supporting the weight of your head while sunlight with the heat of an all-out Bunsen Burner shone down on you. You were at the edge of isolation, just where you wanted to be. Some of us were looking at you, staring at the girl who seemingly didn't have heat receptors because if the sweat formed under you shirt hadn't gotten on your nerves, the heat trapped in your cardigan probably would have. But it didn't. You stayed rooted at that cafe table, under the sunlight and out in that ridiculous heat.
My friends and I joked about how high your heat tolerance must be. My mind kept twisting, trying to find more reasons to talk about you to my friends because I didn't have the courage yet, to go up and talk to you myself. Then, snap. I knew I had to do it. I knew because the weather was being horrible and that you were completely alone, looking like you were about to doze off under the hot sun and under your many layers of clothing that were probably drenched in sweat that I had to talk to you. That this was a great opportunity to talk to you. Because I could talk about the weather to you. About how it was so hot and like, aren't you hot, why don't we go inside and we can find a nice, cool spot for us to continue our chat at. So, off I went.
I think it happened like this. Actually, I'm sure it happened like this.
Me: Hey, aren't you hot? (since you can barely open your eyes because it was so goddamn bright)
You: *looks at me* *looks away*
Me: It's really hot out here, no?
You: *looks at me again* no *looks away again*
Me: Really? You're not hot?
You: I'm not hot (you said this without looking at me)
Me: You don't wanna go inside?
You: No.
Me: You sure?
You: *sighs* *grunts* *looks annoyed and borderline pissed*
Me: *scampers away at the speed of light*
So, you didn't want to talk. I got the memo and ran. I literally ran. I'm not sure where I went but it wasn't back to my friends because the next time I came outs again, I saw you sitting at the same place you were at, with one of my friends towering over you. I didn't know what the hell she was thinking but the next thing I know, she was back here with me. And then suddenly, she had one of the class cameras in her hand and she was busy taking pictures of you, right next to me. I must have looked dazed, confused, probably even angry because why the fuck are you taking pictures of my crush? I think I asked my friend about what went down between you and her but she just laughed, "she(you) says she's not hot." I stopped asking more because I didn't want to sound like I wanted to know more and to give away how fucking pissed I was. I then proceeded to snap my own photos of her with the other class camera because why the fuck not. I thought my photos of her were tons better than the ones my friends took. Bitch.
We moved to the library, our next photo-shoot location and that was where my friend further pissed me off. That bitch must have seen me attempt to start a conversation with you at one the reading tables(didn't work out) because the next thing I know, again, she was right fucking there. Seated opposite you, with a big book of whatever-the-fuck-that-was opened up in front of her while her lips moved quickly, saying who-the-fuck-knows-what to you. And you responded. You said some things to her in reply to her conversation starter. And that ticked me off because when I tried it with you, no response whatsoever was given. It was like you couldn't even be bothered with me. I was offended. I was hugely offended because you! were! my! crush! but! I! wasn't! the! one! you! talked! to!!! Instead, it was this bitch I called my friend who got through to you.
It was days later when I was told by my bitch of a friend that she had started texting you, and that you were replying her. She told me that our class assignment day(Saturday, I remembered), wasn't a good day for you and you had told my friend off at the library when she was trying so annoyingly hard to get your attention and to talk to you. She said you sort of scolded her and told her that she was annoying you. I laughed at that because ha, desperate much, bitch? But my joy was cut short when I was told that it was because of that incident, that you guys had started chatting through texts. Apparently, you felt bad for what you did to my friend, so you asked someone for her number and texted her to apologize for your actions. I remember being torn about that because you did somewhat the same thing to me too, but only texted her. It meant only she had left an impression on you, not me.
After all that, I kind of just let go. After all, it was still just a crush. It didn't get far enough to have that strong of a hold on me just yet. So, I decided to turn a blind eye and let things happen the way it should happen. I'm not sure what happened between the time when I decided to let go and our first individual presentation for one of our classes, but after seeing your presentation in class and how scared, nervous you were for it, I couldn't help but scratch that itch I had been feeling. I asked my friend for your number and texted you the night of your presentation. I congratulated you on your performance and tried to hold a conversation with you. You didn't sound like you were into talking to me but I pursued until I couldn't. The next few days were like that too. I'd text you and you'd give me short, brushing-you-off-ish replies.It was very demotivating but somehow, I managed to continue my pursuits. Surprisingly, you got better. Yeah, you got better at texting me and I didn't feel as bad as before. Long story short, you chose me. In the end, you picked me over your long line of admirers. It wasn't without a crapload of obstacles and hardships but we pulled through.
The first few months we were together, it was pure joy. It was the kind of happiness that's innocent, exciting and nervous. However, fights broke out sooner than I thought they would. I wished they hadn't. We would fight, make up, fight again and make up again. Weird enough, as the arguments grew more heated, so would we. Passion sparked between the two of us like never before and I could never not want to touch you. I could never not want to be near you. I had to be near you. Always.
Things got complicated when your ex came into the picture. That was when our break-ups started to happen. It turned from fights-makeups to breakups-makeups. And then, things between you and my best friends turned sour over something dramatic-me did. Everything was downhill from then on.
The worst parts of us revealed themselves and they clawed at each other. They clawed till both of us bled, till both of us couldn't take it anymore. Of course, we always got back together in the end. We learned to take hits. We learned to stay together while always secretly blaming each other when arguments occurred. We learned to survive the lies. We learned to live with chaos.
I need to be blamed for most of our arguments because although you may be in the wrong when the arguments first started, there were so many ways, better ways, I could've handled the situation. I always blamed you for making big things out of nothings. Little did I know, I was doing the same. If I could've just, stoped being me for two minutes, collisions could've been avoided. We might have had an actual chance in working things out instead of just letting shit hit the fan and then putting the fan back up again, uncleaned, waiting for it to be hit by shit again. If I could just hold back a little bit more, if I could just stay cool for a little longer, maybe we wouldn't have been to the places we were at.
I always blamed you. Whenever we had a fight, I'd always blame you. Without fail. My first instinct would be to blame you. I'd yell at you, I'd abuse you with words to let you know how much you were being blamed for our downfall. And you'd yell back, telling me that I was the one to blame and that I had to learn to take my own hits and own up to them. I never sincerely admitted that it was my fault. I mean, whenever I had to admit that I was to blame when we were making up, although yes, I was sincere about being sorry and how it was my fault, it was never without a hinge of anger and dissatisfaction. Anger because I felt like I was always being blamed for something that was clearly your fault. Dissatisfaction because why was I the only one being blamed? What about your mistakes? Why don't you ever see your actions as mistakes?
But now, I know. I know that it's not about blaming you or me or anyone else when things go wrong. It's about understanding and accepting that you are blamed not because they did no wrong, but because you did wrong at one point. They might have been wrong too, but the moral of the story is don't blame others before blaming yourself. Take a good look at what you did and what you could've done to avoid this from happening. Everybody's brain works differently. All of us see things, do things, speak of things differently. What is 3 for me doesn't mean it's 3 for someone else.
A spiteful and sarcastic question asked out of anger to me, could've just been an innocent question asked out of confusion to you. I've been blaming you when I should've been blaming myself all along. And I've been crying for all the wrong reasons and for all the wrong things all along.
I know that now. It took me a year and four months to understand this. It took me two days of silence from you for me to finally figure this out. It took a potential actual break up for me to know how wrong I have been since the beginning of us. It took potentially losing you to finally learn to see myself for my mistakes. Potentially because I am still unsure whether we will get back together after this. What's new is that you've never gone this long without contacting me before, you've never once responded after I texted and called you, and you've never changed your WhatsApp profile picture whenever we fought before.
If it really is over between us, I hope you will understand how sorry I am for screwing things up and for not being able to change to be better like I so greatly promised you. If you do leave, I can only say that I'm glad you're leaving someone as shitty and damaged as I am behind. I love you but I am not healthy for you and I will not force you into something so dark anymore. And I do not think I should be involved with anyone after this.
I've never really talked about our beginnings and how I felt about you here. I was never ready before. I'm not completely sure why I wasn't but now, I think I finally am.
I'm ready to talk about you now.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Risks
I read something on Tumblr, or was it Twitter? Anyway, it was along the lines of "if they constantly put themselves in a position where losing you is a possibility, lose them before they lose you." Okay, so maybe I made the last part up, I don't remember what comes after the first line but it was something like that. The phrase made sense to me because if you do cherish one person, if you do think the world of them, the last thing you'd want is have them walk away right? You'd give everything you have to make them stay, to prevent them from disappearing out of your life. You'd do that for them because they matter to you. They matter a lot. So, you hold on to them.
Maybe it's different for her, I don't know. But for me, if I don't want to lose you then I'd make damn sure I do what I have to in order to keep you with me. I'd try to minimize the hurt I cause you because it's pain that drives people away. Pain is the ultimate deterrent, isn't it? I know that I can get bitchy sometimes. I can get emotional and unstable. But I never intended for anyone to leave. I still try to hold on. I know I've put myself in a position where I could be losing you before, but I never let it go too far. I'd always stop myself before it's too late.
But every time I look back at you and our last moments together, I get answers I don't want. I over-think, but I doubt that this is me over-thinking. It's true that you can love someone and still hurt them. It's true that you can love someone and still leave them. I think she's leaving me. This isn't the first time she's risked the possibility of me out her door. This isn't the first time she let me realize things and cry to myself while she played dead. It hurts the most, telling myself that this isn't the first time.
This is probably the 20th time. 20 times she threw me into a pit of fire to see if I'd still come crawling back in the end. For the last 20 times, yes. I went back to her. I crawled back into her warm, passionate, familiar embrace. Is that going to happen again this time? Or will she have her arms crossed? Will I let myself burn out in the flames she started?
I don't know. But I need some music to get through the day though.
Maybe it's different for her, I don't know. But for me, if I don't want to lose you then I'd make damn sure I do what I have to in order to keep you with me. I'd try to minimize the hurt I cause you because it's pain that drives people away. Pain is the ultimate deterrent, isn't it? I know that I can get bitchy sometimes. I can get emotional and unstable. But I never intended for anyone to leave. I still try to hold on. I know I've put myself in a position where I could be losing you before, but I never let it go too far. I'd always stop myself before it's too late.
But every time I look back at you and our last moments together, I get answers I don't want. I over-think, but I doubt that this is me over-thinking. It's true that you can love someone and still hurt them. It's true that you can love someone and still leave them. I think she's leaving me. This isn't the first time she's risked the possibility of me out her door. This isn't the first time she let me realize things and cry to myself while she played dead. It hurts the most, telling myself that this isn't the first time.
This is probably the 20th time. 20 times she threw me into a pit of fire to see if I'd still come crawling back in the end. For the last 20 times, yes. I went back to her. I crawled back into her warm, passionate, familiar embrace. Is that going to happen again this time? Or will she have her arms crossed? Will I let myself burn out in the flames she started?
I don't know. But I need some music to get through the day though.
Monday, August 8, 2016
2016 Basically
I don't think I can do this. This living, breathing thing that everyone is trying to do. Some of us are making it work; I'm not the lucky few. I used to think that having someone to love takes away the pain of being alone, the pain of not knowing how we'd end up.
It doesn't.
You can be in love and still feel lonely. You can be with someone and still end up alone. Alone. I don't want to be alone. My family and friends, yes they do make me feel less lonely. Yes, they do fill some spaces in my soul. A lot of people are telling me that it's possible to fill the rest by being on my own. That it's possible to feel contempt, at peace with oneself even by being alone. I don't know about others, but I feed off love.
Not familial love or friendship love. Those kind of love make living possible, but they hardly make it worthwhile. And I'm not out to live just because I was given a life. I'm out to live because I want to find something, someone worthwhile. I'm out to find the live in alive. Does that make sense? To desire something worthwhile? Worth the effort of trying to live. Worth risking everything for. Worth all of what I can offer?
I'm thankful for my family and friends. I can't ever describe the amount of gratitude I feel for the love they pour on me, time and effort invested on me. I spent my teenage years worrying about disappointing them. I'm stepping into the adult life soon and still, I worry. I panic. I scream.
I scream with everything I'm not made out of. I scream with every opportunity I let slip. I scream with the sadness from not being able to be the person I wish I was. I scream with all I have and all I don't.
Every night, I scream. In my head. On my bed. Under the sheets that never seemed to bring enough warmth to my skin. Next to my grandmother whom I know I'll always let down. Tears made of sickening thoughts soaked my pillow and wet the bed sheets. I'd drown myself if I could cry faster than the tears evaporate. Once they're off into the air, gone is any trace of the previous ordeal, apart from the dry sensation on my lips and the fatigue left on both my eyes. Finally, I go to sleep.
I go to sleep to have the darkest dreams.
What am I? Biologically, I'm female. Spiritually? Mentally? I have no fucking clue. Either I'm deep under layers and layers of denial, or I really have like, zero idea. I know what I wish for though. I wish I was born a male. I wish I was born a little boy, so I could grow up into the man who falls in love with the woman with a smile made of everything good. Does wishing for something equal to how I want to identify myself as? Confused, I'm so fucking confused. And I'm so fucking depressed. I'm so fucking sad all the time. Is this what living is all about?
It doesn't.
You can be in love and still feel lonely. You can be with someone and still end up alone. Alone. I don't want to be alone. My family and friends, yes they do make me feel less lonely. Yes, they do fill some spaces in my soul. A lot of people are telling me that it's possible to fill the rest by being on my own. That it's possible to feel contempt, at peace with oneself even by being alone. I don't know about others, but I feed off love.
Not familial love or friendship love. Those kind of love make living possible, but they hardly make it worthwhile. And I'm not out to live just because I was given a life. I'm out to live because I want to find something, someone worthwhile. I'm out to find the live in alive. Does that make sense? To desire something worthwhile? Worth the effort of trying to live. Worth risking everything for. Worth all of what I can offer?
I'm thankful for my family and friends. I can't ever describe the amount of gratitude I feel for the love they pour on me, time and effort invested on me. I spent my teenage years worrying about disappointing them. I'm stepping into the adult life soon and still, I worry. I panic. I scream.
I scream with everything I'm not made out of. I scream with every opportunity I let slip. I scream with the sadness from not being able to be the person I wish I was. I scream with all I have and all I don't.
Every night, I scream. In my head. On my bed. Under the sheets that never seemed to bring enough warmth to my skin. Next to my grandmother whom I know I'll always let down. Tears made of sickening thoughts soaked my pillow and wet the bed sheets. I'd drown myself if I could cry faster than the tears evaporate. Once they're off into the air, gone is any trace of the previous ordeal, apart from the dry sensation on my lips and the fatigue left on both my eyes. Finally, I go to sleep.
I go to sleep to have the darkest dreams.
What am I? Biologically, I'm female. Spiritually? Mentally? I have no fucking clue. Either I'm deep under layers and layers of denial, or I really have like, zero idea. I know what I wish for though. I wish I was born a male. I wish I was born a little boy, so I could grow up into the man who falls in love with the woman with a smile made of everything good. Does wishing for something equal to how I want to identify myself as? Confused, I'm so fucking confused. And I'm so fucking depressed. I'm so fucking sad all the time. Is this what living is all about?
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Nevertheless, I Love You
She's like tsunami.
I see her coming from afar. I know I should run. I know I should be taking off to somewhere far, somewhere unreachable by her. I know what I need to do for my own good.
I know how destructible she can be. I know how she is.
I know what will happen if the both of us collide.
Like a volcano, I am cursed with immobility. Whatever happens, I stay rooted.
I stay.
I stay as she comes crushing into me. I stay as waves and waves of her wrath fall onto me.
I stay until I can no longer stand standing there.
A tsunami and volcanic eruption. At the same time. Tearing each other apart. Until nothing is left.
Her waves recede. My lava cools and hardens. Volcanic ashes form.
Ashes. They pose as a reminder of what happened. These ashes are mine to keep. Mine to linger around. Mine to live with.
They tell me, they remind me to never let this happen again. I am a volcano. Fully capable of self-destruction and to those around me.
She is just the same.
And equally destructive beings must not ever meet.
No matter how much they want to, how much they crave to. They cannot have each other.
The volcano cannot hope for cool tsunami waves to wash away its ashes.
The tsunami cannot hope for the warm volcano lava to melt its cold heart.
We simply, cannot.
I see her coming from afar. I know I should run. I know I should be taking off to somewhere far, somewhere unreachable by her. I know what I need to do for my own good.
I know how destructible she can be. I know how she is.
I know what will happen if the both of us collide.
Like a volcano, I am cursed with immobility. Whatever happens, I stay rooted.
I stay.
I stay as she comes crushing into me. I stay as waves and waves of her wrath fall onto me.
I stay until I can no longer stand standing there.
A tsunami and volcanic eruption. At the same time. Tearing each other apart. Until nothing is left.
Her waves recede. My lava cools and hardens. Volcanic ashes form.
Ashes. They pose as a reminder of what happened. These ashes are mine to keep. Mine to linger around. Mine to live with.
They tell me, they remind me to never let this happen again. I am a volcano. Fully capable of self-destruction and to those around me.
She is just the same.
And equally destructive beings must not ever meet.
No matter how much they want to, how much they crave to. They cannot have each other.
The volcano cannot hope for cool tsunami waves to wash away its ashes.
The tsunami cannot hope for the warm volcano lava to melt its cold heart.
We simply, cannot.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Edited
when i'm not loving you
it’s quite hard to see pass death
your hands tangled in my hair
it takes me to my next breath
i won't close my eyes
this way I won’t lose sight of you
i just want to see you a little longer
come close, don't you worry
you won't ever lose me
I can tell what’s your biggest fear
but darling I’m here, I’m here
sweetheart, hold on to me
help keep the ground near my feet
I’m crazy, way out of my mind
till i can come home to you
have you seen a shooting star
me neither but I’d wished for you
I’d hope to god for it to come true
i kept praying, please, please, please
then came a library day
dressed in black and white
hiding in a very shy smile
hiding in a very shy smile
you looked right at me and all i know is
i just want to see you a little longer
it takes a lot, i know
for someone who can't love to love
it takes even more, i'm sure
for someone to love someone who can't be loved
well baby, I’m in deep love with you
and baby, I know you are tooWednesday, January 13, 2016
This is Happening
She called me to tell me she was watching TV. She said something about the show she was watching. That she liked it. I asked her, "So?"
She repeated what she said.
I repeated what I said.
She told me her phone was charging. I said okay. I said okay again. She said goodbye. I stayed silent. She hung up.
I texted her afterwards.
明明你也很爱我 没理由爱不到结果 只要你敢不懦弱 凭什么我们要错过
我已经把整首歌听烂了
我爱你
但我不知道你还要不要
我的爱
对不起
She replied almost 50 minutes later.
杉杉来了 这个戏很好看哈哈 > <
I texted.
你逃不了现实
刘漪
别逃了
I wait for her reply.
I still don't know what I'm doing.
She repeated what she said.
I repeated what I said.
She told me her phone was charging. I said okay. I said okay again. She said goodbye. I stayed silent. She hung up.
I texted her afterwards.
明明你也很爱我 没理由爱不到结果 只要你敢不懦弱 凭什么我们要错过
我已经把整首歌听烂了
我爱你
但我不知道你还要不要
我的爱
对不起
She replied almost 50 minutes later.
杉杉来了 这个戏很好看哈哈 > <
I texted.
你逃不了现实
刘漪
别逃了
I wait for her reply.
I still don't know what I'm doing.
14 January 2016
A month today. Valentine's Day.
A month today. A planned surprise.
A month today. Smiles.
A month today. Love.
Today. Anger.
Today. Sadness.
Today. Numbness.
Today. Depression.
I've been listening to the same song for over four hours. I can go on. I will go on. There's nothing to do. Although I want to do something, write something, draw something, sing something, I'm empty. There is nothing to do, nothing to write, nothing to draw, nothing to sing.
I turned my laptop on and clicked "play". I went to open up Google. I stared at the search bar. I heard the same damn song play over my headphones. I stared at the search bar even more. I listened even harder to the same damn song play over my headphones. I spent 40 minutes staring at the Google page with nothing on my mind. My hands do not know what to do because my brain isn't giving out any instructions. My brain isn't giving out any instructions because my brain isn't working. My brain isn't working because it doesn't want to.
It can't.
Everything feels surreal. Such a blur. My nightmares are clearer than this. My nightmares are clearer than the present I am forced to call reality. I hear the song. I see the words I type. I don't know what I am doing. I just.
I don't know where I go from here.
I replay the song.
There is nowhere I want to go from here.
I listen to the song.
I live in it now, the song. I relate to the lyrics and to the melody. I want them to relate to her too.
She's probably still watching TV. Either she doesn't care or she's pretending that it didn't happen. I don't know which hurts more. Actually, they both hurt equally because not caring means I don't matter and pretending that it didn't happen means she no longer wants me to matter.
I don't know if avoiding the issue helps. I've never avoided anything. I've never been avoided either. Until today. Until now.
A month today. A planned surprise.
A month today. Smiles.
A month today. Love.
Today. Anger.
Today. Sadness.
Today. Numbness.
Today. Depression.
I've been listening to the same song for over four hours. I can go on. I will go on. There's nothing to do. Although I want to do something, write something, draw something, sing something, I'm empty. There is nothing to do, nothing to write, nothing to draw, nothing to sing.
I turned my laptop on and clicked "play". I went to open up Google. I stared at the search bar. I heard the same damn song play over my headphones. I stared at the search bar even more. I listened even harder to the same damn song play over my headphones. I spent 40 minutes staring at the Google page with nothing on my mind. My hands do not know what to do because my brain isn't giving out any instructions. My brain isn't giving out any instructions because my brain isn't working. My brain isn't working because it doesn't want to.
It can't.
Everything feels surreal. Such a blur. My nightmares are clearer than this. My nightmares are clearer than the present I am forced to call reality. I hear the song. I see the words I type. I don't know what I am doing. I just.
I don't know where I go from here.
I replay the song.
There is nowhere I want to go from here.
I listen to the song.
I live in it now, the song. I relate to the lyrics and to the melody. I want them to relate to her too.
She's probably still watching TV. Either she doesn't care or she's pretending that it didn't happen. I don't know which hurts more. Actually, they both hurt equally because not caring means I don't matter and pretending that it didn't happen means she no longer wants me to matter.
I don't know if avoiding the issue helps. I've never avoided anything. I've never been avoided either. Until today. Until now.
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