I was wondering why did I stopped blogging. Yes it is because I was too busy with studies and all. But to be realistic and to be more specific. Is that I no longer have the need to. Why?
It's because previously I don't really have a person to tell all my stories and feelings. They're kind off got stuck and heaped up inside me. And it feels so heavy. I mean, yea I do tell stuff to some friends, but not all, and not freely. It was always so restricted. And I was scared too. I mean what if the things that I told them will make them think bad about me, what if it's not supposed to be told? All this in a way hamper my true feelings. I cut out details from my stories, I actually think whether the story is interesting or not so that I won't waste their time and bla bla bla. Although I am quite sure few of my friends who I don't know how minute is the chance for anyone to read this, but, if they were to read this, I bet they'll be angry, mad, frustrated and even disappointed. Because I will too. Someone who you take as your friend is saying that they are not comfortable to tell you stuff, or scared that you might judge them, anyone who is a friend will be offended by such thoughts, right? I'm sorry. But that's what I felt. And I feel miserable. UNTIL..
Until I met someone special, that I opened up to. Anything. Everything. No matter how big or small, how significant or not, how ridiculous or serious, day or night, free or busy. I would tell that person everything. And it feels so good. It feels like I am not alone. And that's when I no longer need to write or blog. Simple. But. It's not. I failed. I failed to control my emotions. I pushed the limit. We went to more than just friends. And that too felt good. All that I always liked. Funny and cynical. We share the same opinion of how too mushy some stuffs are. Being romantic in the weirdest ways. Quarrel like there is no tomorrow. All that we liked, disliked, we adapted, we take in those things, and up to a certain point, I stopped eating citrus fruits just because my SO hates oranges. And even eat some ridiculously sweet dish although the idea of it makes me feel so weird about it. All the happiness and joy. Unfathomable. And like day and night. The sun sets. And all there is, is darkness. It was my fault too. What happened? Not to be discussed now. Because the main story is what I only now realise.
I was lost. No one to tell my stories. To share my feelings. To just joke around and talk to. Like a giant pothole in my metaphorical heart. Feels like something is missing. And I wander. I longed for the same attention. And from one side, my wish came true. Someone did came in. Stayed with me as my heart is trying to not fall apart. Hear my stories no matter how late or early it is. To laugh at the lamest jokes one could ever think of. The void now becomes the supernova. Bright lights. Sounds that forever in my mind to keep me company. And again. This metaphorical heart of mine jumps and skips and somersault into diving deeper and deeper into more than a friend. Attached. Tangled. So deep until that as my head realise that we can't go further, we already went through all. And I was scared to be honest. Scared if I actually say it there and then, I may never let go easily. Although I know, that eventually we have to let go. And so I stayed silent. I locked the words, bury it down under the deepest part of my heart and mind. Such to an extent of how things were. We refrained from eating/drinking what the other hates or won't eat/drink.
And then again. Like Icarus, who flew to near to the sun. It came crashing down. I thought that we could safely land. And walk again as friends. I really want that. But no. My selfish, idiotic, disrespectful acts are no longer retractable. Shots have been fired. Tears falls. Hearts bled.
"You're damaged"
If it isn't because I was trying to make them hate me, I would have burst into tears and cried for help as those words were uttered. But no. I must stop myself. Yes I am damaged. No longer fixable. But not you. I won't forgive myself if I hurt you more.
It's because previously I don't really have a person to tell all my stories and feelings. They're kind off got stuck and heaped up inside me. And it feels so heavy. I mean, yea I do tell stuff to some friends, but not all, and not freely. It was always so restricted. And I was scared too. I mean what if the things that I told them will make them think bad about me, what if it's not supposed to be told? All this in a way hamper my true feelings. I cut out details from my stories, I actually think whether the story is interesting or not so that I won't waste their time and bla bla bla. Although I am quite sure few of my friends who I don't know how minute is the chance for anyone to read this, but, if they were to read this, I bet they'll be angry, mad, frustrated and even disappointed. Because I will too. Someone who you take as your friend is saying that they are not comfortable to tell you stuff, or scared that you might judge them, anyone who is a friend will be offended by such thoughts, right? I'm sorry. But that's what I felt. And I feel miserable. UNTIL..
Until I met someone special, that I opened up to. Anything. Everything. No matter how big or small, how significant or not, how ridiculous or serious, day or night, free or busy. I would tell that person everything. And it feels so good. It feels like I am not alone. And that's when I no longer need to write or blog. Simple. But. It's not. I failed. I failed to control my emotions. I pushed the limit. We went to more than just friends. And that too felt good. All that I always liked. Funny and cynical. We share the same opinion of how too mushy some stuffs are. Being romantic in the weirdest ways. Quarrel like there is no tomorrow. All that we liked, disliked, we adapted, we take in those things, and up to a certain point, I stopped eating citrus fruits just because my SO hates oranges. And even eat some ridiculously sweet dish although the idea of it makes me feel so weird about it. All the happiness and joy. Unfathomable. And like day and night. The sun sets. And all there is, is darkness. It was my fault too. What happened? Not to be discussed now. Because the main story is what I only now realise.
I was lost. No one to tell my stories. To share my feelings. To just joke around and talk to. Like a giant pothole in my metaphorical heart. Feels like something is missing. And I wander. I longed for the same attention. And from one side, my wish came true. Someone did came in. Stayed with me as my heart is trying to not fall apart. Hear my stories no matter how late or early it is. To laugh at the lamest jokes one could ever think of. The void now becomes the supernova. Bright lights. Sounds that forever in my mind to keep me company. And again. This metaphorical heart of mine jumps and skips and somersault into diving deeper and deeper into more than a friend. Attached. Tangled. So deep until that as my head realise that we can't go further, we already went through all. And I was scared to be honest. Scared if I actually say it there and then, I may never let go easily. Although I know, that eventually we have to let go. And so I stayed silent. I locked the words, bury it down under the deepest part of my heart and mind. Such to an extent of how things were. We refrained from eating/drinking what the other hates or won't eat/drink.
And then again. Like Icarus, who flew to near to the sun. It came crashing down. I thought that we could safely land. And walk again as friends. I really want that. But no. My selfish, idiotic, disrespectful acts are no longer retractable. Shots have been fired. Tears falls. Hearts bled.
"You're damaged"
If it isn't because I was trying to make them hate me, I would have burst into tears and cried for help as those words were uttered. But no. I must stop myself. Yes I am damaged. No longer fixable. But not you. I won't forgive myself if I hurt you more.
And that's when I realised. All this time. I was longing for someone. But it was not a need, it was what I want. If I had controlled my emotions. Keep it all heaped up and vomit everything out typing it here in this beat-down, tainted blog. Nothing would have gone wrong. No one will be hurt. So maybe, just maybe. I'll force myself to blog once again. To cage and chain this heart that cannot differentiate being nice from being flirty. In hope, we will keep everything here. And give nothing out to the world. If it burns, it's me, if it's freezes, it's me, if it dies, others can still live.
We're all gonna be forever damaged on the inside, however, it's the personal capabilities of us inside us that truly determines what happens next, our exterior, is just a facade...
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