I want to be loved so much so that my doubtful heart would never know how to doubt again.
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.”
You asked me one time what do I need. And I almost said it to you right there and then. That what I need most is the power not to break, the power not to break under pressure, under love, under your heated gaze. The power not to break whenever you walk away from me, or whenever you’re near me, or whenever you hurt me with your words and with your stupid actions and inactions. The power to walk away from you and never look back. The power to never fall in your arms again every time you came back.
The power to still this treasonous, treacherous heart of mine.
To say I don’t love you anymore and mean it this time.
//excerpts from a book i’ll never write #30
“Why are you settling with him? He isn’t good for you. He’s just using you.”
I sighed. “Who says I’m settling? It isn’t because I’m still seeing him means I’m settling. You think I’m the one in love in this situation? You think that just because a girl is hooking up with a guy means she’s settling? Can it be the other way around? I definitely don’t want to hear any wedding bells with him, if that’s what you mean. He’s not the type. So relax. Stop your stigma. I’m just having my cake, and eating it too.”
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #27
I swear she tried, she tried to dry her tears, she tried to stop it from flowing to her cheeks, she tried to stop her tears from wetting the pages she writes on, she tried to write happy stories and to think happy thoughts and to anticipate a happy future that may or may not await her. Yet she still couldn’t help but cry each night. Can you hear her sobbing at night when the world is asleep and at peace? She writes the saddest stories, but even the saddest of the saddest stories she had written couldn’t compare to how her heart is breaking right now, in real life.
And I swear she tried her best to rewrite this story, her story, but her tears had already smudged her words, clouded her vision, ruined her hope.
I remember the first time I saw an angel. It was night, and I was wishing on a falling star. Those were the times that my heart still beat the rhythm of myths and dragons, of fairies and fairytales, and of angels and fallen stars. My heart was still so young and naïve then that I would believe I could fly and grow wings out of my back if someone would tell me I could do so.
He kissed my tears away while my eyes were closed and as I wished upon a falling star.
“Be brave,” he whispered. His lips grazed lightly on my forehead, and I heard the first stirrings of my innocent heart.
I caught a glimpse of him before he completely vanished into the thin air.
He has beautiful auburn hair.
Coal black wings.
– – –
//old post again. Though I rewrite and correct most grammar errors I made in the past. 😁😅 Originally entitled, “Auburn hair.”
I think you will never know how much I want to take a picture of you when you’re not looking, to capture you in those moments when you’re just being yourself, caught up in some daily task, or thoughts and daydreams that I would never even know, times when you’re unaware, and unabashedly imperfect. I wish I have taken those photos of you so that when this day comes, I’ll have those photos to remind me of you, and remember that once upon a time, I had fallen in love with a boy who never even knew how much I loved him.
//excerpt from a book i’ll never write #25