Thursday, August 17

I am now sitting on a chair feeling the night breeze on my face when I first start writing this back. I am in the city back after a long ride from home. I am thinking about many things. Life, failed relationships with people and mostly my struggled emotions. And my guinea pigs’ eyes. How the fat one stares at me. I am reading this book at the moment and started thinking about people who don’t bore me. Trying to forget about people who bore me. I am listening to a song, I don’t know how it ends up in my playlist but it’s Glass Bridge by Savina & Drones. I’ve been thinking to take a ride on a motorcycle although I don’t know how to ride one. Just lit up a caramel scented candle and ash my cigarette in my bad coffee while my mind wander somewhere else.

I have so much things to write these days or maybe I’m just bad at prioritising what’s important I ended up picking the night calls when I was too consumed with my clogged up thoughts. You know like times you start to wonder why your face seems to glow after the night you drank and also you start to realise the next day your face looks dull so you start to do this drink tonight and look good tomorrow morning, and then drink tomorrow night for the day after tomorrow, and you wake up one day with a headache. So you stop for a while, and then you drink again the champagne you got, and suddenly you have to deal with reality and failed relationships. You get a massive headache and you come home and pass out.

But with me, it’s like talking to my person every night before we sleep, basically talking about what’s bothering our minds. Because I was too consumed with thoughts, I can’t seem to construct the right word to him and ended up giggling over other things but woke up the next day feeling miserable. And that’s that ― repeatedly until one night I was left crying at the corner of my bed over the phone. Just like the night where he found me shaking, trying to light up my cigarette at the glass window we had in our room. He was there hugging me the whole night, crying in his arms until my body stopped shaking violently.

I’m honestly just afraid of someone losing interest in me after getting so attached to them. But now, growing up, I’m trying to grasp the understanding that we all need to grow, it's either they’ll grow with you or away from you. Either way it’s fine, we can’t stop growth. Or maybe I’m just terrified of the idea that I am not going to be in the picture anymore. And in the process of them growing up ― is growing without me. Maybe love is not about wanting to have them in your life forever but learning to let them go to see them grow. You know when people keep reminding you that if you’re not outgrowing people you’re not advancing and maybe you are that person that they don’t choose anymore ― a bitter truth you gotta learn in life. And now I am going to practice non-attachment. I have to accept what comes and allowing it to leave when the time comes. What’s for me will be for me, and what’s for you will be for you effortlessly.