August 12, 2019

Us Against the World





We all have our fears, some of them we may outgrow, some of them we carry along the way, some of them we are not aware of and then they surprise you. 

You came as a surprise. There is silence between us - the kind of silence that pierce through, and we can both feel it somehow

Amidst all those hatred thrown against me, words that said, "you don't deserve to be loved" and that there were times when I sometimes believe it. My pasts have told the universe, that I am never capable of loving. How many times have I given up on love for my cynicism? and how many times have I cried for love in silence? I lost count. I was told that I only deserve the pain I inflicted, only the pain. 

Then, you came. Not from a slow-mo with Never the Strangers in the background. It was just calm, pure calm. 

You told me that love wasn't meant to be overthought. That no one apologizes for feeling too much or not at all. That we live in the age where it's okay to take as much heartbreak as possible, and fall in love just as much,  because that is what really matters at the end of the day.

I never really understood how it's like to live in the moment. But, we started holding each other's hand on an empty parking space, and I don't know how it's like in the movies, but it almost felt like that. 

We'll keep partaking our favorite songs, and listen to it at night. We'll drink enough margaritas and tequila sunrises and be bullies of each other throughout the night. We'll smoke fvcking expensive cigarettes and feel guilty why we did it, but still do it anyway. We'll deliberately walk slowly again on busy streets where people walk on a rush, just to annoy them. We'll be talking about shallow stuff, because we always pretend we dislike the cheese. After everything, we'll laugh at all the stupid things we do. We'll keep falling, falling all the time. I don't know what we are, but this thing keeps me going. 

It has been a year since I wrote about love that was utterly true. And it has been months, when I thought I could never write something like this again. 

On a rainy 3:00 am morning, while we were walking home with tipsy heads,  laughing our ass off for the stupid decision we have made. I started looking for words that would describe how I feel. Then, I saw myself stupidly smiling at the kind of love we are staging - the kind I am willing to fight for. You were fear and love at the same time, I am home and nothing else matter. 

You made me believe that I am still capable of loving. That I could pick-up broken pieces and make it whole again. The thoughts inside my head are complicated, but you understood them anyway. You heard me at my loud silence and made me feel things once again.

My pasts were wrong when they told the universe: I don't deserve it. They were all wrong, and I don't need to prove it. 

Though how much hatred the world will give us, while we fear that maybe someday this will end too. We will be invincible, holding each other's hand. We are living in this moment. Today, it's just us against the world. 


Always,
AP 💖


Photo by Anastasia Dulgier on Unsplash

June 22, 2019

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