Saturday, September 08, 2007
It's ok...Dear Kuya,
I miss you.
I've been emotional this past two weeks, crying as if all the water I have refused to let out because I was too lazy to walk to the bathroom have chosen to evict them through some other means, frowning as if the weight of the whole wide world were cut in half and was making a balancing act on the sides of my mouth, grumpy as if... as if I really was mad at you.
But I wasn't.
I was frustrated because I couldn't spend as much time as I had wanted with you. I'm frustrated because everywhere I turn there is someone watching and they're watching with eyes so focused and mouth so ready to spread rumors. I'm frustrated because for the 8065th time I had realized that I'm not living in Brunei anymore and though people here are nice enough, the Philip of Pines are still filled with gossipers, with tongues so sharp that it hurts and so clever that it is always under the guise of trying to help you.
I guess I was just frustrated because the reason why you tried your best not to be with me is because of them and it's driving me crazy. The insecure part of me screams and shouts that you are just trying to avoid being seen with me because you don't really love me, yet the smarter yet very rarely listened continues to whisper and breathe into my ear that that's not true. You love me and that's why you're protecting me.
Everyone keeps telling me that you love me and that you're serious. In fact, the only reason why I don't tell any of my close friends in your batch what I'm feeling is because they are biased and they will immediately rally behind you and in fact since you are pretty much perfect in every way possible, even my own batch will rally behind you and of course that's why I don't tell people why we fight because it is usually just me arguing and you trying to pacify me and ohmyfreakinggosh you are perfect.
But I'm scared.
I'm scared because of that one time someone screwed with me and turned my heart upside down and then proceeded to tear it apart piece by piece. I'm scared because the minute you made me feel like you complete me, my very innards shook and I realized that you now have the power to tear me apart piece by piece too.
Yes I'm darn scared of falling right back down to the ground with my heart in shreds and people walking all over me and I'm trying my very best to pick up all the pieces of my heart, hoping against all hope that a part might be missing because it means that someone decided to pick it up and keep a part of my heart with them.
But all I found then were the broken pieces, tattered and torn, walked upon and driven into the ground. And what's worse is that the footprints matched the shoes the very person I gave my heart to was wearing.
And yet, when I look at you. When you smile at me. When you grin and try your very best to pacify me and make me feel better even though it is my fault that we're fighting though not really technically fighting cause you never do fight with me. I don't think it exists in your gene pool or something that certain gene that would allow you to see the mistakes and pits of my argument or maybe you do see them and you'd rather not fight with me because you know when I'm not in the dumb-brainless mood I usually am easier to talk to.
When I look at you, I realize that it's ok.
It's ok that you complete me. It's ok that I lose control of myself every time I face you and your completely disarming smile.
Lotsa love, Jana
Plus I'm watching this totally romantic Korean show that is eliciting from me squeal after squeal after freaking squeal. They're adorable and at this moment, I'd like to believe that my love-life is sort of or even better than theirs.