Breakeven

I haven’t told my seniors about how their review notes give me tantrums. By now, if they are reading this, they already know.  My only point here is that I do feel things so deeply. Even in silence.

Stupid deep.

There are things we cannot talk about simply because they needed healing. These are loud silences that should be understood. I don’t forget things, and I’ve always been sorry. I don’t know how to explain it anymore – but the longer we stay at something that doesn’t give meaning anymore, the more we become the monsters, we promised we never would. I am pretty sure I was becoming it.  That is how I know it has to end.

These days, it is not easy for me to write about love anymore. I always joked about “flirting” and trying to find it cute to have new crushes. Like a 16-yo me; Sometimes, I wish I am still the girl whose stories belong to chic-literature, a funny hopeless romantic.  But, I couldn’t.

We all tell the stories about the broken hearted, but we never told the stories of those who made the tearing. Aren’t theirs broken too?

Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever find love again. The kind of love that’s worth fighting for, the kind of love that grows so deep, you learn to grow too. I want to have a love that doesn’t fear, the kind that does not fall back to the boundaries the society set on us. To paint the town red, at 2am when only silence is awake – I hope I’ll find love that hold my hands when all the sadness comes in. If it comes, I hope I deserve it this time.

In most instances, I feel so deeply about the comments my seniors give me because they always seem like a reflection of who I am as a person; a mess. Fixing my working papers is much harder, than the actual making. Funny.

Quite often, it is truly tiring to be always not good enough. That empathy and recognition have always been given to those who’ve been “good” – but are not meant for the reckless, the heartbreakers, those who chose to stay silent, even if, they all fought too. After everything, we can only be sorry, and that is all.

Why is there always a need to quantify pain, grief, and exhaustion for our feelings to be valid?

“When a heart breaks, no, it don’t breakeven”

Stupid Deep.

Love, Patricia

Photo by Eutah Mizushima on Unsplash