- As a kid, I was a chipper li’l bugger. Adults loved me because I was bright, and I had such confidence that I believed I could be anything I wanted to. I was beautiful, smart, and charming.Unfortunately, I didn’t carry that self-esteem to my adulthood. Sometimes, I catch myself thinking how awful I am: a fat, ugly, mean-spirited, and boring person who is useless at everything. It’s gotten better over time, but loving myself is still a daily battle, one that I lose more often than I want to admit.Advertisements
In my previous entry, I mentioned how I fell ill in my last day in Caleruega. I had a high fever and chills that lasted for three days. When I went to the doctor, she diagnosed me with urinary tract infection or UTI, and told me to avoid the following:
- salty food
- junk food
- soft drinks
In short, she halved my diet.Advertisements
A dosage of harsh truth: if you gave yourself half the love you’ve given him, you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.
You might tell me love is unselfish, or love is unconditional. Bullshit. This is the time for you, for once, to be selfish and self-centered.Advertisements
Photo taken here.
First things first: I’ve missed you a lot. There, I said it. I tried to avoid telling you, but after you said it to me last night, so softly, so sincerely, how can I not admit it? I’ve missed you badly these last few weeks.Advertisements
The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person. —Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters
The one you love is indifferent. You can spend your waking hours craving his affection and approval, only to have him ignore and belittle you. He might never give you what you want. You, on the other hand, give him everything he could possibly need, leaving none for yourself so long as he is satisfied. Which he never is.
To him, your problems are small and petty, to be answered with a shrug of the shoulder. Despair will tear at you and you blindly convince yourself that someday he will return your affections.
The one who loves you, on the other hand, worships the ground you walk on, kisses the hem of your garment. He will give you everything he has, and more. You know this because he makes sure you know this.
To him, your problems are his problems, his burden to bear. Guilt will gnaw at the pit of your stomach and you wonder why he would do all this for someone like you.
There’s one thing they have in common, though: you will never feel good enough for either of them.Advertisements
I’d like to make you coffee every morning. Morning, noon, nighttime, daybreak… At any hour, whenever you want it. I know how much you enjoy a hot cup of joe; I know that it helps you write and work.
Speaking of work, I’d like to tell you to get some sleep. I’d get mad that you’re still up at 4AM and nag you to go to bed. You’d think that I don’t understand that you need to work, but I’d just be worried about your health.Advertisements
We met at a restaurant.
It was a steakhouse, a block away from where I worked. The entire place was wall-to-wall wood: tables, chairs, even the candleholders. It appeared cozy and familiar, the perfect place to have a hearty, comforting meal after I had another rough day at work.“I’ll have the filet mignon, please,” I ordered. “Well-done.”The quiet laughter and conversation of the other diners rang loud in my ears. I felt their lightness weighing down on the hollowness inside of me, more painful than the physical pangs of hunger.Advertisements
In the little things, in the most mundane objects:
a hot cup of coffee, a morning phone call, a crumpled bus ticket
in the simplest and laziest of days spent on the couch, watching sitcoms for hours
in the long stretch of a comfortable silence, punctuated by gazing eyes and grazing skin
in the few millimeters of distance between us when sitting side by side, reading books, lost in different worlds
in the words you do not write, in what you do not say —
I find love.Advertisements
Amid the steady hum of passing buses rises the dissonance of raised voices. The midnight quiet broken by clashing cacophonies, symphonies of shouts.
I lick the droplets of blood from between the cracks of my lips before twisting my mouth open into a snarl. My words, I wield as weapons: their sole purpose is to inflict pain. The scars I am leaving behind are monuments of every pause, every punctuation, that has drawn blood.Advertisements
#23 on my to-do list: kiss someone in the rain.
I checked that item off my list a few weeks ago on a rainy Sunday night. 🙂
There are 23, 274 results on weheartit for “kiss in the rain”. I chose this one because of the black hoodie which he wore that night HEHEHE
Just the thought of him makes me ridiculously giddy with, um, love. You know that feeling when your heart feels like a big balloon that’s almost bursting with air? Yeah, he makes me feel that way.Advertisements