You say that you love me
and that you won’t
let me go
But I already am-
i p p
A leaf that desperately holds into the branch,
hoping to make it through winter,
waiting for the spring,
pretending that it’s summer,
but in my heart its’s raining
tears, tears, tears.
Yet we both know, I would always be like a leaf during fall…
holding on but eventually would still
in love with you.
Maybe it’s because I love you too much,
and even more so, because you knew that truth…
But we keep going in cycles or circles,
up and downs of fights and love,
of screams and kisses,
of hate and embraces,
of everything that hurts and mends.
And even when I try to escape,
and hope to the heavens to take away my love
(or to already take me way up)
I keep falling way back to you,
and keep falling in love with you.
Over and over.
Like cycles, or cirles.
I go back and forth,
second-guessing your love.
that is never constant.
You say you love me,
and on some moments I believe so,
but then you suddenly forget,
and I am lost in the universe of your anger.
Yet I wait.
I go back and forth,
for you to come,
and come yet again;
to love me, then neglect me.
I keep going back and forth,
and hold on.
You don’t have a clue what I’m feeling,
or how I think,
You don’t have a clue not because you don’t understand,
but because you choose not to.
You think I’m strong,
because I’m either angry at you
or trying to make you happy.
I stay silent
when you cry,
when you say you’re done trying,
when you feel incomplete,
when you are not in the mood for cuddles and kisses.
I stay silent
and wait for you to say “I love you”
and hope for an embrace
and maybe a little patience.
I stay silent,
and listen to my heart that keeps beating for you.
Believe me, I have long accepted that I won’t ever fit the stereotypical definition of beautiful- silky hair, fair skin, to-die-for body, cute eyes, perfectly aligned teeth to produce that killer smile. No, I am far from that. I have this hair that I cut by myself and dye in every color you could think of. I have certain acne filled days. I have had these braces since forever. And please, don’t even get me started on how imperfect my body shape is.
But this is me and this is who I am. If I can’t love it, who else would?
All these physical scars won’t amount to the scars engraved inside my mind, like a memory trapped forever. All the cynical laughs, all the darn mean comments that they say “mean you well”. All of those are forever kept.
But this is me and this is who I am and I refuse to be a mere mold of society’s ideology of beauty.
I am not perfect and that is what makes me human. I think, it’s nature’s own way of filtering people that are meant to stay in your life, and those who pretend to care, only to feed from your insecurities for their own insecurities to be gone.
I am not perfect, but that only makes me more willing… to change things that I can and be better; and to accept things as they are and be more mature.
Life sucks. Big time. But life isn’t going to change for you, and what you can do best is live life for yourself. Draw, sing, dance, fuck it! Just do whatever makes you happy and leave a trace, a smile, a legacy. Be you and no one else. Be remembered as the one who was different rather than the one who fitted in.
I am here. I know someone else is out there to listen too. We are here.
I am fascinated by tattoos. I have this weird looking earplugs. I dye my hair a different shade than what people call normal. I am, often, not regarded as normal. And I seriously don’t want to care. But sometimes, it gets too much when people shove their own opinions on your face.
I’m sorry but I live life for me. And I’d rather look back and say, “Damn, I did that?” than “What if?”.
I guess, at the end of the day, what’s important is that you are happy with your decisions, and be responsible enough to make certain ones that can change your life, but never be a liability.
Love is a two-way journey. It either breaks us, or builds us. It can make us strong and weak at the same time. It can inspire, or be a cradle of self-doubts. Love, sadly, is an unknown risk that few are willing to take.
Often, we choose the most accesible love. We choose comfort. Why? Because its easy, and it demands less from us. We can practically sit on it and have no change asked from us. But, isn’t that what life is about? Changing… growing… learning. Falling and standing up. Falling in love and knowing how wretched it is, but still being courageous and taking chances.
People rarely take leap of chances in their lifetime. We are all control freaks who talk about living life but never really doing it. We tend to… comfort ourselves with thoughts that we can take our time, that we are doing what fate wants us to do, that if it doesn’t fall neatly into place then its not meant to be. But, does it really go like that? Or doesn’t it sound like we are mere puppets waiting for our puppeteer to decide for us?