Another rant to pour out.
Why am I still crying for the same reason? Why does it hurt still? Who to be blame with what happened? Is it my fault? How did it happen? Have I already moved on?
Frankly speaking, my heart can’t answer any of those questions, neither do my mind. I tried believing in myself that everything has already been accepted, and forgotten. I have been pretending the whole time that I’m happy. In fact, I tried because I have to. I have felt the most pain actually, because I loved the most. No one can tell, and no one can prove that I’ve been through a lot. Even I, don’t know who to call for help whenever I need shoulders to cry on, whenever I need to speak out when my heart starts to explode, and when I need companies to find those solutions in my mind. I thought our Superior, God, can help me surpass this burden, I thought He is enough to make it go away but every time I need Him He was just listening because He wants me to learn and to be strong. So, aside from God, only I, understands myself. I am the solution; I am the right answer to overcome this pain.
It’s me who is not yet ready; it is me who doesn’t know how to start moving on from the past. It is me who doesn’t want to. Why? It is because I really don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid, or maybe I still love him so much. I’m not sure what I want, or I still don’t know the right answer to say it.
I found myself lying on a comfy bed, dreaming of a guy who could actually love me more than he love himself and protects me more than my guardian angel do. But, I had woken up with the thought that a guy like that would probably don’t exist, and if he is, I don’t know if he’ll meet me. Someday, a better man will come over, not just on a dream, but in reality.
She excludes the fact that a person can love her more than she loves herself. She let her pride go up and never return on being the person she was before. What she kept in her is the respect and contentment of what she is right now. She thought she could handle everything without needing any help from anyone. She believes in herself that she’s the weakest. Moreover, she could not resist having those thoughts in her mind, because she’s the one who let it in to herself. She is as novel as a book. She is as wise as an owl. She is strong. She is more than what she thinks to herself, but she never tried believing it again.
You are the reason why I write and why I cannot write. You see, your entirety can ruin me. You plant the trees for my words but you also uproot them in the most random seasons. Sometimes, my tongue and my hand get all messed up with all the unnecessary jibberish. All because of love. All because of you. I hate them, these seasons. But I love you anyway.