Archive for October 2018

Romantic Love, an Experience

Monday, October 29, 2018 Comments Off

Rudy Fransisco once mentioned in his poem that "Love is a tablespoon full of hemlock that I’ve been dying to try."

I understand the sentiment. I despise love—well, romantic love at least. Though I do not precisely know what it tastes like, I have no doubt that it would not agree with me. Throughout the years, I have sampled its varying kinds that were handed out by an abundance of begetters. They claimed that these snippets were the building blocks of love that were consisted of romance, intimacy, and kindness. However, in exchange for receiving those bits, I was required to be vulnerable in all sorts of ways. I was required to be candid, truthful, naked, and open to everything.

In theory, all of this would be rational, some sort of necessary requirement for establishing romantic love. Everything would be balanced out through equal exchange of building blocks and nakedness by both parties. But alas, it was nothing of the sort. The snippets that they offered in exchange for my candour were often only a one way transaction. Frequently, I was left alone and naked in the dark; feeling cold, unfortified, betrayed, and humiliated after such failed exchange where the begetters do not like my nakedness and cancelled the transaction. It would take me weeks, months, even years to recover from baring myself to those begetters, and I had to borrow warmth and kindness from my platonic peers. I admit my foolishness for allowing myself to be naked and vulnerable over and over again. I admit my wanton desire to engulf romantic love; to fully digest it without shame, remorse or consequences, and feel the transcendental experience that people regularly undergo. But self-preservation demands me to direct my desire elsewhere to a more rewarding and less risky experience.

I suppose, in the end, romantic love is an expensive indulgence not everyone can experience in their lifetime.

The Price of Vulnerability.

Thursday, October 25, 2018 Comments Off

A recent interaction with Almost Love made me firm my decision on downloading a certain dating app. Since my colleagues and I have been single for so long, we thought it was the swiftest way to get to know strangers without having to divulge ourselves too much unlike the more conventional ways to meet guys through the means of connections. At first it was just for fun—as an inside joke between my close friends at work. 

But then came a forgotten part that I despise the most: being vulnerable with a stranger.

I have learned, through numbers of interactions including with Almost Love, that I built too high of a wall. This brickless invisible wall has been keeping other people out, and keeping myself in. A defense mechanism that I built after years of deliberate neglect and alienation. This wall has succeeded in being indestructible with its unwavering ability to be robust and impermeable. The only time I lowered this wall was when I let An Almost in, and it was assembled into a congregation of clamour that ended in a barely whimpering clutter.

Through numerous of so-called trial-and-error moments in which people either overestimated or underestimated the bearing of my wall, I decided to create a more elaborate wall—a labyrinth of traps and snares that unwittingly trick you into walking barefoot on the leftover remnants of countless wars between me and myself, but also with others.

This painstakingly detailed labyrinth is the cheapest form of defense mechanism. It has been with me throughout the years I grew up. This labyrinth, even though I personally built it brick after brick, you could still see some influences from external lack of care. There are numerous little icy pricks caused by external heartache, large blobs of insecurity that throb so loudly and painfully whenever someone comes near the wall with unclear intentions, shrapnels of general distrust, and toxic waste of loneliness.

I will never believe in the genuineness of anyone, not unless they would willingly dismantle this giant labyrinth by going through it while fighting my demons at the same time.

And I know, baby, I can never be someone worth your time and effort.

Perhaps, I was born right, but assembled wrong.

Wispy Blue

Saturday, October 6, 2018 Comments Off

I will never forget the gentleness in his wispy blue eyes whenever he saw me looking at him.

The corner of his eyes would wrinkle a bit, not as a testament to his age, but as a display of emotion on his otherwise stoic face. A ghost of knowing smirk would also adorn his face whenever his wispy blue would catch my coffee brown, projecting a seemingly private long-established intimacy between us. Those wispy blue would reserve dedicated kindness for me whenever I felt the need to inhabit temporary sanctuary that would fend off external criticism.

His wispy blue could be very cruel too—tirelessly locating unwanted truths about myself that he could easily spot without even him having to squint. I never figured out how he was able to procure a specific pair of optics that could strip me bare in front of him, making me cold with insecurities. That pair of wispy blue could effortlessly destruct walls that I had specifically erected to guard myself from outside scrutiny. He did make some efforts in sparing me from believing only bad things about myself by baring himself in return, wordlessly showing me that we were actually more alike than he would like to admit.

But I recently found that, though his wispy blue could never got tired of examining my soul, he himself eventually did. Maybe, getting tired is too harsh of a word, he just simply did not care anymore. I made some efforts in trying to salvage everything, but my attempts were futile due to our shared similarities that frankly were too similar. Though we seemingly looked different with his wispy blue and my coffee brown we were too much alike that we even regards each other's actions and underlying intention the same way.

Now, those wispy blue no longer reserve any gentleness, kindness, and warmth for these coffee brown.

Now, those wispy blue no longer dare themselves to look into these coffee brown.
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