Saturday, April 29

April is ending. Well, life’s good except that I actually have 98% of life problems (which I started made them up in my mind) I need to handle, other than that everything is fine. Foods and books (a list of Korean dramas I have to catch up to) have been my best company during rough spot, life has been hard on me the past few weeks after leaving all my favourite people behind, but it just started to get going and good despite all separation anxiety episodes I have to get through. It’s different lately.

When I thought I would come home to being the usual sore loser going through the one-of-those-nights alone, someone decided to stick around this time. Funny how our paths have crossed and this person was meant to make a huge difference in my life. I caught myself thinking about how we both fell into this liking of each other with no warning, no notice and no expectations of what might happen. I like that we are both happy living in this moment. It wasn’t too late and it wasn’t at the wrong time but it’s all fuzzy to me, still.

It’s crazy inside me; I overthink and overanalyze everything. It gets to a point where I’m the one ruining something before it even begins out of fear. It’s ironic how the fears I have of something ending, almost manifests itself into a reality. I know this. But I can’t help it either. It’s unforgivingly selfish of me but most nights are just another night I tried to push you away. It’s the being asked what’s wrong? And I don’t even have an answer. Because in retrospect nothing is wrong. My life is good. But at the same time that nothing is everything consuming me. Because it’s just feeling. An off feeling I can’t shake for long periods of time.

I don’t know what am I capable of doing next, but for now, April reminds me of the feelings I thought I have long forgotten. April saw my heart flutters when I meet this person who opens every door I walk through. This person who makes sure I walk on the inside of sidewalk away from the street. This person who run his hand shamelessly under the dining table to tickle me in secret. This one person who still gives me butterflies when he walks in to a room. This person who have me re-reading our recent messages when we aren’t talking ― smiling as if it’s the first time I’m reading them, because actually reading your messages for the first time has me subconsciously beaming for minutes uncontrollably. Even when I’m in public.

For whatever happen in the near future, I just want every single cells in me remember every feelings you made me taste. It’s beautiful, in otherworldly no one has ever made me feel this way. I won’t forget the feeling when you keep on telling me how beautiful I am, and those memos you left reminding every rough edges of me that you love but I didn’t say anything because I never see myself that way. It’s that critical voice inside my head that I hear on repeat. Even when you compliment me, I don’t believe it at first. And you don’t understand why I don’t see myself the way you do. And that’s how you made me feel whole again. Because there’s something beautiful about teaching someone to see themselves through your eyes.