Posts Tagged ‘hate’

So staying up late and gulping down caffeines kind of makes me feel like being drunk okay. And this spinning Story of Pine is not getting me nowhere because my life is already in chaos.

So it’s like, life is short okay? That’s why we stay up late and smoke weeds and hook up and have fun and cry and laugh at the same time right? How could you even have time to ponder about what to do? Like, after all the times I’ve fucked up I’m trying my best to be patient, because “Patient is a fucking virtue” they said, but NO I CAN’T!

Do you know how hard it is to not say the words? I mean, no matter who or what you are it’s still a freaking burden to keep it all to yourself, your feelings, your twisted longing to touch to kiss to inhale to memorize that object of infatuation who’s driving you nuts. It’s not those kind of burdens that help you fly like wings, no. They’re like lead in your blood, like cement that concreted around your legs that pulls you down so deep so far gone. Keeping them within is like holding your breath, holding it for so long that your body begins to tremble, and starts to seize, and you’d end up being suffocated by your own breath.

So no, it has to be done, and said, and shouted out to the world right? So he/she would know, and for a moment hopefully that person would appreciate your love, before they brush it off their shoulders like a breath of snow.

These thoughts actually pump me up and make me just wanna run up and kiss him there tomorrow at work. Or I could be more secluded, I would walk with him to his apartment that night, staying safe in the coat of night, saying the words in a veil of frost, that I want him, I want us. How I would stake it all for only a fragment of hope. Yet that, is not how things work.

Considering how things were first looked over and pondered for months, why did I decided to remain silent anyway? Given unrequited lust would torture my soul, how sure I am that being rejected would not kill me?

For the worst bet as it is and the stakes are high, there’d be possibility that the moment our lips touch, all hell’d break loose. There’d be screaming and pushing and fighting, and fire, and hail of hatreds. And all would break, burn, and end.

No, I wouldn’t be happy with that either.

Indeed, I’d be devastated.

So might I seal it up, and take it slow. And might I find a way to put it down, or at least turn it into something smoldering, something that wouldn’t burst out from inside and flare up my rib cage, turn me into ashes from the inside out.

Might I find a way to settle for the second best. Because being friends feels good. And as good as it could be, we might have some accidentally on purpose touching, or brushing. Or for some moments let the common senses of personal space fall into oblivion, we could put out lips so close, would study our own reflections in each other’s eyes, and as long as our lips don’t touch, all will be fine. And that’d be as good. That’s be the second best.

And we might as well get there, to the closeness we craved, to have red strings hooked everywhere, but never attached.

If not this way, then another way.


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Love hurts

If you asked me what was the most painful kind of love, which I believe most of you would answer unrequited love, but no. In that kind of love at least you would find consolation knowing that he would never love you back, because it’s totally hopeless you wouldn’t find yourself trapped in some kind of water spiral sucking you all in, tearing you apart. And eventually you’d survive, ready to get going with brand new affairs waiting for you.

The most painful thing, in the name of love, is being stuck with a love-hate affair. You hate him enough to leave him, yet you cannot pull yourself together just because you also love him so much.

I’ve been dating with this guy. Well, I have ONLY dated him so as far as my entire life, for almost 6 years, our anniversary is on December 2006. It was since I was a high school kid. He’s 3 years older and since then we’ve been sticking with each other all along. I knew only him, the only and unique, him. He was like, the world to me, because you were so in love and because you were so blind, and because he was you first love so you cherished him as it was forever. Yes, I was so madly in love, all I ever knew was him.

But he didn’t think that way about me.

He’s got this mean streak, this sick need of giving love, and searching and cannot stand being bond. I have lost count of his flings years ago, yet the number kept growing. It’s not that bad like he’s been hooking up with other boys or something like that. I never knew. I tried but I could never understand why did he need to do that. But he did, flirting with endless boys, handsome yes, sending me to the basement of Hell because I was not gorgeous, not pretty, not slim… And he never stopped, though I forgave him each time but still he kept relapsing. I hate him so much, so much for that that only one thought of him saying lovey dovey stuffs with those lads made me wanna throw up.

Yet still, I have this stupid hamartia in which I love him so much that only a thought of leaving him sound like a foresight of the collapse of my world. I love him so much that without him the world wouldn’t be the same. Because beside of that mean streak he is at whole a very good man, he’s funny, he’s very caring and always know what to say to chill me down. And most important of all, the way I feel whenever he touches me, I could never feel that way with anybody else. That’s why I always fall back to him, to his dark twisted chest game that he’s the rules maker and I’m always the one that falls.

Why was it so hard to be in love with just me? Why does he even need to find other boys even when I’m willing to accept all of his flaws, his EVERYTHING in exchange for simply his loyal and faithful heart? Why was it so hard to love just me when I loved him that much?…

I have so much questions to ask but deep in my soul I know that he’d not even know the answers. It’s just because that’s what we are. Because I’m desperate and devoted and stupid and blind. And because he’s care-free, womanizer and cannot stand any commitment.

I’m just too tired to be able to do anything, anything at all.

I wish I could unlove the one I love. I wish I could stop feeling this much except disgust towards him. I wish I could take that all back, my love, my time, my kisses, my faith.

How to unlove the one I love?

When loving suddenly became a vast of pains.

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