Guilt has compelled you to sacrifice your heart to your conscience. But guilt is useless.
I want a gentle fistful of her hair where her ear meets her neck and I want to steal kisses in between breaks of laugher.
I once crafted a beautifully written draft under this title. Those words can’t seem to reach out, nor convey such graceful thoughts at this moment. Often times, people that know a couple seldom have the chance seeing two sides of a coin. Here, I hope you’d read this piece and this piece that I hold very dear to my heart because I can’t say it any better.
“Sometimes, I feel like ripping apart my skin, and searching for a reason for why I feel this empty. Maybe my veins are tangled. Or something is lodged in my ribcage. Because it feels like something inside of me is missing or broken.”
She’d pick a fight with the sky if she didn’t like the shade of blue. She didn’t understand how doing nothing with her was better than doing anything with anyone else even on my birthday. When it comes to you and me, there can be no decisive victory. Every crime of yours.. feels like one I am guilty of. The dead, at least have the luxury of being done with what they lost. But you and I, we still itch.
‘Cause you never think that the last time is the last time. You think there will be more. You think you have forever, but you don’t. Sometimes, you can’t explain what you see in a person. It’s just the way they take you to a place where no one else can.
I am proud to say that I have lived with no regrets the last four months dating you. I have done things that I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I have kept all my promises to you other than building a pallet bed with you like we said we would. Go on a trip to JB visiting cafes like we said we would. Staycay in a hotel with breakfast in bed like we said we would. Watching ‘Danish Girl’ at The Projector like we said we would. Waffles, salmon and canvas painting at PasarBella like we said we would. Spending a couple more jolly holidays and your birthday together like we said, if we could. If you add little to a little, and then do it again, soon that little shall be much. The thing is we are living on borrowed time. I am contented with what we have already shared so I can live with that.
You make a list in your head about what you want in a lover, like brown hair and a sweet voice. A sharp mind and a soft heart, a sense of humor that actually makes you laugh like you mean it. This and that. And it’s all bullshit. Because people aren’t list. And I’ve always wanted to be the person who made someone realized that. I want to come across someone with a list in their head that is nothing like the person I am, and I want to show them what they didn’t even know they were looking for. People who think they know what they want are fooling themselves. Nobody really knows what they want. Not until it’s right in front of them.
You once asked me if I ever had a lover that was also my best friend. Right now, I want to tell my best friend how much pain it is to have to lose her for all the right reasons, but I couldn’t tell her because she is also my lover. No one ever walks away from love, knowing they can never go back. When you lose a person, a whole universe goes along with them.
There will be nights at four in the morning, when we see each other’s status on Skype lit with a bright green ball of light. I hope that it will be oddly comforting to know that our presences is just right there and we could sit in silences knowing.
I miss you, too.
I imagined your tears streaming down your cheeks standing in a corner of that little cabin in the subway as you illustrated. When I look at your face, my eyes are always drawn to your parting lips. The lips that left me a bruised red in the dip of my collarbone and a half-empty forgotten cigarette pack. I don’t think that they are meant to be romanticized. They slip out things like:
“Last night I dreamt of you,”
“I love you, but I am not in love with you,”
I didn’t say anything then, but I knew better. It’s not that those particular words hurt me or that they were difficult to hear, it was the realization that came after. We don’t choose when or how we fall in love with people even if it is just a fleeting moment or person in time. I was sighing in relief that I wasn’t experiencing those happy moments with that one person (you) because that would have meant I am in love (with you). While you were battered in guilt.
Guilt is often boiled down to a person’s morals. Do guilt associates with betrayal in this context? You wonder if you would be happier with them or without them. You wonder if you would have just been settling to be with someone that you really weren’t meant to be with at all. You become scared of the depth of your own emotions, but the more you try to overcome these feelings, the more they manifest into the deepest and darkest parts of your mind.
There was always something off about two people being together or the two of us as a matter of fact. People rarely land on the same page. You would never have feelings at the same time, you would never be available at the same time, and you would never want what the other person wanted at the same time. Time worked against you, yet you can’t help but ask yourself, “but what if we were happy together?”
Well, guess what. Sometimes a person will hold you and they will kiss you, but they will still leave when the sun comes up. Sometimes, all they want is to be with you at that one moment – for one skipped heartbeat. Is it enough for you. Is this what you deserve. Is it okay if they’re only yours till dawn spills in through the window.
It’s not okay, is it? Assuming that we were on the same page, you do everything you can to be the umbrella, and shelter them, but you forget that getting caught in the rain never hurt anyone. Sometimes I am so thankful that I will never be together with certain people because part of me just knows that it would have been horrible.
The only thing that gives me comfort whenever I am in the state of questioning of what could have been is realizing my experiences are completely individual to the love that I had or have for this person. While knowing that the experience itself is not. The feeling, the questioning, the “what if” may fade away, or perhaps it will stickthing is, breakups are never easy and they take longer to end than the relationship did to start.
Just because sometimes the person you want is nothing more than just all your illusions directed at the fleshy body of another. Other times, they are all you’ve ever wanted but not what you need. And on the rarer occasions, they’re all you’ve ever needed and wanted. When this happens, do we simply deny ourselves and walk away from each other.
The lips are fickle and changeable and they will tell you things you never thought your ears would have to hear. If you don’t mind, lean in for another kiss. If you do, walk away. For I am unsure how many people I have kissed to come to terms with the realization that I am okay with what’s given to me. Therefore, I do not ask for more. This sort of contentment doesn’t equate to being naive. Things never work out exactly as planned, especially when I begin thinking and making my choices based on a person and ignoring every red light my gut tells me to turn around.
People often think that the person whom we fall in love with consumes our every thought, takes ownership of our irrefutable happiness, is also our best friend; someone we want nothing more than to spend time with, laugh with, and love with our whole being ignited with fire. These people also hope, that that person, or persons, are gentle, careful, and safeguard that piece of us, we have given to them as if it was a part of them. But, that would be too easy; too obviously perfect and true.
No, we might not happen overnight and no, it might not end like the perfect romantic comedy. It might happen gradually and had the potential to be one of the wisest decisions we have ever made, but love has its costs. We traded our friendship for intimacy and chemistry for the familiar. But here is the catch, how can you be afraid of losing something uncertain if your desire to take risks and step outside of your comfort zone is almost non-existent.
When you do leave, leave the door ajar because there will always be someone after you, and vice versa.
It’s raining just the right amount of drizzle outside. And I remember the conversation that we had that night, when it rained and how that became a poetry we tumblr away in the midst of a storm. The thunders are in hushful murmurs tonight and I’d have thought of you like how I think of you now, and the conversation that we had that night even if things were different.
The difference is, I get to tell you that I am thinking of you.
“I thought of you, while in the shower
and I thought of how nice it’d be
to have your things among my things
along the bathtub’s edge
and I imagined myself running out of soap
and using yours
and wearing you to work, and the grocery store
and I imagined that night, laying down beside you
and smelling your neck
and finding out where all my soap had gone.”
I found this piece a couple of days back and I no longer have use for it. Like many great authors; an author always knew the ending to a story. And I was that author, of that story. Reading those words that I once wrote has come to me that the more I try to express myself with words, the lesser I find meanings in those words. And at the end of the day, the poems that I used to love diminished into nothingness. I no longer find comfort nor joy, not even pain. Just like this piece above, “I imagined” because as much as I thought I knew the version; what I had in my head wasn’t even close. It started with 6:01am in the morning, I rolled over and you have left for work. I got into the showers and my soap was gone. So I used yours and wore you to work, and the grocery store. I came home to kiss you Goodnight and realized where all my soap had gone. Did I prefer the latter or did I made that up. Until I find meaning in all of these writings, I’m done writing.
“New doesn’t mean that they want to settle with different.” Says her from behind the screen. While I’m looking at half a flight of stairs staggering in front of my foggy eyes, wondering if it was the piece of glass or my sight. There’s a scent of heady fainted after-washed shampoo and I can’t decide if it was my feet from the wet shower floor I took before or was it the tea that she brewed when I walked up from behind her. It tasted like tangerine and dense oak from the woods. Adjacent against the wide rough up dining table was picking pockets behind those very short shorts. Underneath was those slippery slippery fingers.
“Yes, more tea.”
I only wanted to see more of her walking that ass. She doesn’t have a clue, yet.
That night we slept innocently, pulling her back closer to my sides.
I wanted to kiss her then, but I planted kisses on her forehead instead. While I inhaled the scent so deeply from behind her ears and fell into a deep slumber.
I wanted to kiss her the morning after when she nudged me up for work. I just simply looked the other way, pushing my cheek to her lips for a peck and tuck myself under her arms.
I wanted to kiss her two nights before when she made me soup. Which I drove across town just to bring her chocolate bars that resembles the muffins she had craved so badly for. We ended up watching and laughing at ridiculous videos on YouTube in each other’s arms till daylight broke.
I wanted to kiss her at the movies. Despite being kinky; getting the rise out of each other while watching a (many) movie I can’t even remember the title of. I kissed her.
You kiss me back and pull me onto the bed. I hold you like I never want to let you go, and kiss you like I’ve never kissed anyone else. We haven’t been together for long, but all I want to do is learn to love you and give you everything you deserve.
Minutes later, you start to undress me and make your way on top of me. I want to tell you to slow down, but the look in your eyes – You’re so excited. But, you’re not holding back anymore. You’ve found comfort in a far less intimidating place. For the first time, you seemed to be at ease with your body. I want to tell you to come closer, just like you were a few minutes before, but I want you to experience the intensity you make me feel.
Hours later, you seem surprised that I’m putting your needs before mine, and that I still want to be with you. I know, you’re not used to that. You say you don’t want to be romantically involved with anyone else. I tell you that it is okay not wanting to be.
This piece isn’t how I used to write about the girls I’ve simply slept with in explicit details. It has taken me weeks because I have no idea how to write about something so foreign to me.
I’ve got a very specific type: Cougar with an air of charisma. I didn’t always know this about myself. Really, the type found me. So when I met you, a plain Jane with a shy smile… yeah, at most, I thought we would be good friends. I know you thought the same thing, too. Especially when we met with such an unusual circumstance through a friend at a club and we play pretend that you are my girlfriend for the night.
You enraptured me. You laughed with me, and loudly. You poked and you smirked and you made the cells in my body dance. You were the opposite of everything I’ve ever looked for, and most importantly, taken interest in. Except you were the very thing I needed. I let my competitive nature get the best of me – I pursued you and you caught me doing so, but you didn’t stop me. I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed to meet you to understand the importance of being with someone who truly makes me laugh, and to learn the very harsh lesson that I can’t always get what I want.
Without meaning to, you became my favorite part of every day. Each time we parted ways, I immediately began counting down to the next time I could see you again. It was very hard to ignore a chemistry like ours. We made out and you played with my hair and you cared for me and you held me and you listened to me and you made me noodles and you got me water and you lathered me with soap from the dishwasher and you brushed your teeth next to me and you sipped bitter coffee from my cup even if you dislike the taste of it.
In return, I showered you with gifts in the form of a mixtape, sweaters with your favorite scent of me and dinners and dates at places you have been dying to go to. For someone I wasn’t being exclusive with, you reaped the benefits of my affection and attention. You let my fingers entwine in between your already tangled long green hair, pet your adorably soft ears and kiss you before we slept at night. You let me taste you, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss those days.
I am not innocent, but I am honest. I honestly thought we would work out because I thought the Universe looked out for things like this. How could something so right, so electric, so passionate and so raw just not work out? I’ll never get it, and I will always be sad if we never had our chance.
“Those who prefer their principles over their happiness, they refused to be happy outside of the conditions they seem to have attached to their happiness.” – Albert Camus
Sounds light and frothy isn’t it. It’s comforting. He understands that love doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone. I read from somewhere that a love bred out of convenience, a love that blossoms from the need to sleep beside someone, a love that caters to our need for attention rather than passion, is a love that will not inspire you at 6am when you roll over and embrace it.
I will always remember how you casually mentioned how soft my hands are the first day you held them when we first met. I will always remember the look on your face when you compare how much larger my hands are when you thought they were smaller than yours. As to whenever I stick out my tongue. And as to the quirky habit that I have; nibbling on your palm in those car rides, listening to my favorite songs come on. – You once asked me what was intimacy for me. This is the kind of intimacy that is rare (with you) rather than right there. But the words continued to elude me. Perhaps it was your bitterness, perhaps it was your fear, and yet still, perhaps it was the feeling that the time for such loves could come and be gone, and my words had missed their moment. But maybe words don’t need perfect moments, they just need to be said. And if you do find comfort and solace in these words..
“For truthful words do not come easy, and to come across the kind that dictate your heart is rare. But when it happens, those words become yours too.” Sometimes love doesn’t need an outcome. Sometimes love just needs to be. And when I do eventually love you, maybe I didn’t need your love back. Maybe I just needed to be.
For the girl with ‘W’ as her initial.
I can’t even begin to express the kind of depressive episode that I’m going through right now. and then spending months and months picking myself up.
Love is largely self-generated, and falling in love is a process. Stendhal calls crystallization. Before you fall in love, you see the other person as a bare branch. As you fall you coat him or her with jeweled attractions, about 80% of your own making.
Love is so interesting. I think that 80% of what exist between two people is sort of put on, and everything else in between is what’s real. An idealization or anger, whatever it is, is the thing in between that is absolutely inherent.. that is the absolute truth.
-Anatomy of a Love Seen
This is an analogy and deciphered quote I came across while watching a film which was pretty much what I was doing the past couple of days. I thought I might just come back and ponder it over.