I want to be loved so much so that my doubtful heart would never know how to doubt again.
They say that the person you like or love would make you want to become a better person, that they would inspire you to become the best version of yourself. So why then whenever I think of you I love myself a little less and hate myself a little bit more, until all I have is hatred for myself? Why then whenever I think of you all I want to do is to self-destruct? Why then with you, I’ve become the worst possible version of myself?
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #34
I’ve written this a long long time ago, like years ago, and I’ve just seen this again on my FB memories. I’m not even so sure if this is really from me. 😅 But I know it is. I even googled this if it’s from someone I just quoted out to be sure, but nothing came out. 😄
There’s this part of me that sometimes hopes and thinks, “What if he loves me? What if he really cares for me? What if he’s different?” And I think everyone of us who at some point in our life had been at the giving end of unrequited love had perhaps thought of those things.
Today, it’s as if all those what if questions were finally answered for me. And all I could ever think of was “He didn’t love me. He didn’t love me. He never did. It was all just me.”
I used to think that this was it. That my life was over without him in it. That I couldn’t be possibly any happier in the future than when I was with him. After he left me, it’s as if my world stopped spinning, and I became afraid of the future. I became afraid to think of the future, knowing fully that this time I have to imagine and rebuild it without him.
Yet, indeed, time heals everything. Days turned to months, and months turned to years, and I found that the world started spinning again, gradually, slowly, yet continuously and unfaltering. And I realized the world really did not stop for me. I’m the one who stopped. I’m the one who stopped moving, I’m the one who stopped caring, I’m the one who stopped trying to live. So with faith and hope for the future, I stood again. And here I am now, happy, complete, and contented with the life I built even without him.
This is a custom piece request by someone who asked to remain anonymous. 😊 I’m sorry if it took me quite some time to write it. I hope I did justice to your request. For some reason, I really find it hard to write someone’s else story. I tried my best though. 😊
If you think about it, everyone of us will die. Rich, poor, young, old, whatever you have achieved or whoever you are, all of us have the same destination. Dust to earth. So why then do we keep on burdening ourselves, killing ourselves with anxiety, filling our days and nights with incessant thoughts of what to do, or what to accomplish, or if we have enough, or how to have more than enough, when all of it, all of it, regardless of our achievements, popularity, fame, and money, stand nothing in the face of death?
Why then can’t we just live simply and happy and contented, and be kind to everyone and anyone we meet?
Why then do we need to prove to ourselves that we can do this and that, have this and that, be this and that, when even a second from now is not really ours?
Why then do we wait forever before we say I love you to the person we love, and why don’t we spend time with the people who really matters to us when all we really have is this life and this lifetime to expend?
If you think about it, everyone of us will die.
Why then do we let ourselves suffer so much?
A day will come when your days will be unbearably too long, your nights will be too quiet, and the floor will feel too cold on your skin, and you won’t have any other choice but to pick yourself up, kick your feet up, and rise up again.
Because really, how long will you stay down, waiting, crying, and moping around when you’re the only one who can decide to save yourself?