stop hugging me

Hugs are basic forms of affection, or so most people say.

People give them out for free and often. People hug to say hi, to apologise, to love, to finish their sentences.

Stop it.

Hugs are powerful.

Stop giving them so carelessly.

A hug can cure loneliness, it can confess love, it can comfort beyond words can ever. A hug can mend ties, bid farewell and give you life. A hug can make you a new friend, a new lover or soulmate.

A hug, can shatter the walls I take forever to build…

So stop giving it to me if you don’t mean it.

Don’t leave me lonelier than before you came.

I beg you.

not today satan!! i decide who to love

Every night, I struggle in my sleep to decipher why you appear in my dreams.

Surely, you didn’t appear in my dreams with a purpose… right?

Oh god, I hope not.

It must be pure coincidence.

We are better friends. I like it this way.

For every dream I dream, feels like sin. It feels wrong because my mind and heart belongs to someone but my heart and soul yearns for you.

But I am careful.

For being with you in real life is too good to be true.

So I wrap up my wishes and feelings and store them at the back of my consciousness and pray that in the next life, maybe… just maybe… you might be mine.

the outline of your face

I could have sworn I finally forgot what you looked like. I thought to myself, if I’ll never forget the pain you caused, I should at least forget how you look like.

I should forget how deep your dimple piercings were and how I used to love playing with them. I should forget how your eyes, though small, were the most beautiful pair I’ve had the privilege of gazing at. I should forget how you had the most lushest lips I had pressed against my lips.

I should at least forget the details on your face, so that I may at least be able to miss you in a crowd and not be reminded of what I lost.

After so long I believed that I did it; I finally forgot what he was like.

But today I found out I was wrong.

Out of the blue, I had a detailed image of you in my head. So detailed, that as I scanned across the mental image, It ticked off all the points of details I remembered. No idea what triggered this, but whatever. It’s done.

What made it worse was, it was a moving picture. Watching you move, made it more painful. As I watched you move, I felt my heart burn like corrosive acid on skin.

I felt alive with emotion yet dead with no hope.

So with this, I’ll try to forget you again from today.

i hate love

I don’t even know what it is.

I tried to understand what it was, both in theory and practical sense.

I tried listening to the books and movies. I tried listening to what my friends say it is. And I believed them because, everyday I come home to parents who still flirt with each other even after 20 years of marriage on top of 10 years of dating. My dad was my mother’s first. I mean, if my parents made it, surely love is very real out there right?

Having dated quite a few guys and even made it “official” with a few of them, I admit defeat to this monster called love. Or at least in this context, romantic love.

I no longer believe in love. Why does it keep hurting me? Why does it keep running away, leaving me cold? Why does it chase me, only to leave me more alone than I was at first?

Even with all of that, why do I still feed it?

hurts like heaven

I’m in a period of relapse, or rather what you call burn out, regression.

I’m at a point where I know I am exhausted; I’m tired of all the routines of study and work. I’m beat and my demons are taking over me.

I know it is temporary but right now they’re really getting into my system. I feel it getting stronger by the minute.

With the exhaustion of the thought of my existence and the unknown of what’s to come, the monsters I hid under the rug start to peep out. My past creeping back.

They come out when I face the mirrors, they talk to me when I see my photographs. They seep into my brain tissue when I see anything that could possibly remind me of you. They hold me dearly, as if comforting me, whenever I get lost in emotional moody songs- “It’s alright to be like this.”.

They’re not wrong. It is okay to be like that.

But I wonder when, if I do, when will I break free from their deceivingly comforting grasp. Everytime I do, they remind me that you, like heaven, hurts yet feels so good.

So now tell me…

How do I unmiss you?