August 08, 2014
Love burns brighter than sunshine,
Brighter than sunshine.
Let the rain fall, I don't care
I'm yours, and suddenly you're mine
Suddenly, you're mine;
And it's brighter than sunshine..."
And so while it keeps playing over and over again, I have all these images of you and me. Me and you. You. Me. Us. Together. Happy us. Happily together. But very soon they turn blur and vanish. And all I can see is my fingers typing and the white screen with black tiny words appearing on the screen. While I type. Each. And. Every. Single. L.E.T.T.E.R. Fills the screen.
I'm unhappy. It took me about 1 minute to type, delete, type, delete again and type once again the word "unhappy". It sounds so harsh, almost unreal. Well, it can't be real. How can I be UNHAPPY? It's such strong word... Doesn't really match me at all. But it's the truth. I AM UNHAPPY. About what? About now. My life. Me. I never used to be unhappy. All I can recall is I used to be upset because of something. Some incidents. Some people. Some situations. Some versions of me. But never unhappy. But is the word upset stronger, a lot more closer to the state of complete unhappiness? Or the word unhappy? Definitely the latter. Just typing the word makes me unhappier than ever. It's like pressing, pushing something down under the sands. Until you can't see it no more. And just the mess around it, over your fingers. Sands. And still, you'll pat the surface, really making it difficult for the thing to come out again.
Do I love him still? Yes. Why not? After all, he's the only man I ever said yes to when he proposed. ("Maybe it's because no one else ever did, that's why". Of course not. It's because he's the only man I wanted to be with. The rest never really mattered. Never really woke the fire in me to be tamed and be home with.). But thinking how things are constantly so complicated and annoying between us makes me really sick. Makes me want to run away. Run. Run. Run. Fly. But I can't. Because we have a daughter together. Forever. And I can't just disappear. Like I used to. Like I enjoyed. Like the old me. The old me. The old me. The old me. Dead now. Now this is me. This new me. This strange me. This one. This.
Part of me wants to be in his arms. Run to him. Jump to him. Kiss him. Lick. Bite. Suck his lips. Play with his tongue with mine. Grab his hair. Pull it while kissing his face. Over and over. Over and over. Again. Here. There. Ears. Neck. Jaw. Lips. Eyes. Face. Neck Again. Nose. Jaw. Lips. Over. And. Over. Again.
But part of me is tired. So tired. So weak. So fed up. And I guess he is tired too. Fed up too. Very extremely fed up.
If time could go back, I would.... I would what? I would... What? I don't know. You don't know? You don't know because you are afraid to say it. To admit it. Perhaps.
If time could go back, I would think more carefully. About what? About things. What things? Things. You mean about you and him, not things. Yes. Just so you both wouldn't get married so early, and get pregnant so early, argue so early. Just so you both could still act like kids together without worries, both fighting for your own respective dreams. Correct? Yes. But I wouldn't really change a thing. Would you not? Really? Seriously? Yes. Why? Because I love my daughter. She's happiness. She's everything. Are you saying this just to make you feel better? Pretending you really love her? No! of course I REALLY LOVE HER! No more than your husband though. Otherwise you wouldn't be unhappy.
I love her! As equally as I love my husband. But I care more for her because she's my daughter, she's little, she's my princess. She came from me. She's a bright little sweetheart. My sweetheart forever. Forever. And ever.
August 06, 2014
May 23, 2014
I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. I miss him. I miss. Tremendously. Desperately. Hopelessly.
I love him. I love him. I love him. Loudly. Crazily. Endlessly.
My brain tells me to stop.
My heart urges me to go see him even if I get rejected again.
My brain tells me to give up. Let go. Start everything from scratch.
My heart tells me there's still hope, there's still love.
What do I tell myself then?
What does he tell me then?