Hurting myself. 

I’m so glad I made this blog. I’ve been meaning to post something here… well, credit it to my busy schedule plus regular drinking sessions from hump day til Sunday. 

So that’s not the point at all. Sorry, I digress. Mind you, this will be a distracted post. Not distracting, distracted.

***

What happens when you close your doors at some point and decided to open it just now, only to be slammed back into your face? What did you just do? You hurt yourself. That will be the same exact metaphor, I’ll be telling myself. I hurt myself. 

It isn’t easy loving, especially if you believe in true love, and you give yourself whenever you love. However persevering, and patient, you are, you cannot deny to yourself that you lose a bit of you everytime you do it. I am the kind of person that does that. And it’s not everytime that I give that same amount of love to everybody. 

Three years ago, I loved a boy who didn’t returned it to me. When I finally stopped communicating with him, I told myself, I’m gonna love myself more this time - because I deserve a better man. One who can love me for who I am and who can love me still for who I am not. It was such a traumatic experience that I shut myself out and never wanted to hear from anybody. I just want to finish college, get a good job, and earn a decent amount of salary. 

I met people in the past year. People who doesn’t really care who I am and accepted who I am. I began realizing what I have been missing on. And one of my very good friends taught me how to give myself some more love… so I can give others more. I did. I did learn how to love myself. In return, I felt happy, and contented, and meaningful.

It was until I thought I can love again. At first, I told myself, I won’t give in. Of course, I did all that I can to not give in. But who am I but a mortal human. I loved again… more hopeful, more giving than ever. I don’t know what made me think I CAN love again, but whatever it is, I am drowned to the fact of being connected with another person again. I miss the feeling. 

Fast forward to now. I really can’t figure out where I stand now. I find myself where I found myself exactly three years ago, when I gave my all but reaped nothing in the process, lost myself even. Don’t get me wrong here, I wanted to love unconditionally, but there’s threshold to the lack of reciprocation. 

I can’t blame them for not returning the love I gave. Love is never to be forced, and is something that should be given freely. But why do I keep on falling for the wrong guys? Why do I meet these people and become only frustrated when they can’t give what I want? Were they given to me to rub it in that I can’t have them? Or was it to make me realize how unlovable and unwantable I have become? I don’t know. Can somebody tell me. 

I’m sick of expecting nothing. I’m sick of guessing. I’m sick of begging for love. When do I get to be loved anyway? I’ve done my part, so why has no one done theirs? Does it turn off people when others love them unconditionally - whether they are good or bad? Is it because I’m fat and I have a problematic hair? IF NOT, WHAT? Tell me. I don’t know anymore what to do. I’m so confused.

I feel so unloved right now.

***

I am now crazy about this boy who told me he doesn’t want a relationship for now when I asked him for one. But I think it’s not the case, it’s just he’s not into me. So why not just blow me off and get done with me? Why make it all confusing, eh? And now’s all warm and fuzzy all of a sudden. What do I make do with this? 

I love you but don’t make me say fuck you.

P.S. That is a photo he took

The week passed by with so many thoughts for this space, but I ended up writing nothing actually. I wish I could’ve written them somewhere I can see easily so I can still remember to write about them. Bad memory. 

So I guess, I’ll just tell you how’s my day…erm night today. Today I get to ice-tease my half-homophobic (insert: very) handsome friend then-crush. It was a dare brought about by our drinking game. I admit that I half-wished I get to run his arm up to his fragrant neck the melting tube ice in my mouth. But then when I realized it was really him that came out from our stupid makeshift randomizer (we typed all names in a phone and press the button and then stop) I instantly froze like I was locked in a subzero room.

I tried to get out of the mess, but again halfheartedly wishing that I cannot escape this sweet misery. I blurted out that his girlfriend is right beside him, and that we should all respect her presence - to which she gladly said she was ultimately game (oh joy, my bulbospongiosus muscle is happy.) As if scripted and on cue, I picked a semi-non-melted tube ice, which will not break and will cause my oh so queasy lips to touch his skin. I put the ice in between my mouth, and I bowed to his arms (which really smells good btw, it’s just a freaking forearm!) and started running the ice carefully.

I ran the ice using my mouth until I reached the cuff of his sleeves. I lifted the ice a bit so that his shirt will be spared from what seemed ice + my saliva. And that’s where his manly aroma whiffed from his neck, and I had no choice but to oblige into inhaling it. As much I really respect him, almost as instantaneous, dirty thoughts of him entered my mind, and I just had to close my eyes as I near his neck. Oh. My. God. It was like the manliest sweat + odor + fragrance that I’ve ever smelled. Nevermind that my lips (or the ice for that matter) did not touch the skin of his neck. My stomach cavorted into rave to the air that I just breathed in. Oh why do you have to be straight and homophobic, my very gorgeous friend?

I wish I get to kiss him. My another straight friend (but I really think he’s gay) was forced to smack him on the lips for two seconds for a dare. IMAGINE MY EXCITEMENT. But also my envy. His soft lips to another man’s lips. It’s just the dream of twisted gay guys like me happening right before my eyes. But it isn’t my lips on him, so boohoo. 

Now he’s in bed with his girlfriend, the lucky bitch.

This is an ode to fitting in.

This is an escape from the reality.

This is a chance to say.

This is a memoir of the hidden (heathen).

This is an acknowledgment of the fool.

This is a colorless space.

This is a phone that rings.

This is an outpouring.

This is a  continuum of hurting.

This is a rendezvous of desires.

This is a culmination of the unknown.

This is a wish to never have done.

This is an unfinished sonnet.

This is a song of dearth.

This is a mundane musing.

This is a suicide of the soul.

This is a ramification.

This is an affirmation.

This.

Is.