Everyday I wake up, and there’s the faint smell of hope that today will be the day when I finally meet the one. The mysterious. The relentless. The person who will hold me while I finally let go of all the loneliness I’ve saved up the last 25 years of life. The brave. The strong one. The one who won’t run away the first chance they get.
Everyday I wonder whether my love is to be given to all people excessively, but not reciprocating. And every time, I collide with a different wall. The worst part is that the biggest one is that I’ve built when I realized how vulnerable you had to be to even allow yourself to feel whatever love is: To risk everything and accept your heart will be broken, and that it is still worth the while.
How many times already have I told myself the same lie? “It won’t work”, “why risk it when I see how it ends?” How would I know, old me, if things wouldn’t exactly be the way you saw in your mind?
I guess some people are blessed and born with the power of jumping in and not looking. Me, on the other hand, I always look before I fall. Even when I’m halfway in; if I smell the hurt nearby, the angst coming my way, I would most definitely stop with the nonsense. Could it count as a super power? Or a super curse?
Whatever it is, it might explain why every time I watch a rom-com I feel like the biggest failure in life. Someone once told me “for some people, their achievements are measured in either finding love, doing a great job or traveling without any care”. Then why does it have to be love for me? When my achievements in my job feel… Well, worthy to be appreciated, and yet… Doesn’t matter what I do, I keep on hoping love will be the one and only success I want in my life.
Maybe love is not for me at all, because I keep my standards too high. Maybe it was for people who can take a deep breath and accept what they are given.
It bothers me tbh. And what pushes me higher to the peak of my anger is… Even if I have potential lovers around me, I keep waiting for the meet-cute. The one who gets my sarcasm. The one who just collides into my life and makes everything around me feel worse for the better good. The one that challenges me to be unapologetically myself and drives me crazy in the best way. The one that I finally feel attracted to. The one.
Sometimes you think a man is gay but it turns out he is just nice. Sometimes you think a man is nice but he’s actually just wearing glasses. It’s complicated
reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I’m trying to prove a point
