After a series of true love or so I thought, here I am, self-confessed emotionally unavailable twenty-two year old woman but I do have one secret. I'm waiting, and this time, I'm really waiting for the guy for me. That one guy who would really sweep me off my feet, not that I'm gonna do all the sweeping again, but literally put me on my toes. I've been watching and reading all these guys who are so ideal but not so apparent in real life, but I remain optimistic that I will find him, one day, in a time where I am most unprepared, and this joy that I would feel will feel like fleeting.
I used to imagine that my true love is some mix of the characters in the book that I read. Some guy who'd look good in a suit, or cook me dinner, would listen to me talk about the fictional characters I'm crushing on, one who'd buy me ice cream when I'm depressed, one who will dance crazy with me, or go on a trip to somewhere unknown.
My true love will be as crazy as I am, and he will love the world as much as I do. He loves the sun and my tan lines. He'd kiss my stretch marks and tell me I did not really gain weight. He would be the person whom I can tell my insecurities because I had lots of them, and no one had ever known.
One day, he will be there. And one day, I will write him letters and poems, and maybe even songs. We'd talk about classic books and he'd tell me I look good on just white oversized shirt and an underwear, and he'd tell me that I'm the most beautiful crazy eccentric being he has ever seen.
I am hoping, and waiting for him. My salvation, my happiness, my sun and my sea.
My hands are trembling and I am short of breath. I am once again haunted by this reckless feeling that I could not control. This anxiety bordering to verge of depression coming from this deep hole inside me. Something is not right. I don't know if it's the weather, the surge of emotion, those insurmountable things I've been coping with lately. Equally, my lack of emotion share in the same frustration. They said that getting back to this feeling of love and affection is a choice inevitably tantamount to opening my heart again. But you can't just simply open your heart. You have to steer clear of the danger. These feelings of sympathy or compassion or softness were never healthy. I have to stand my ground and if there is anything that I value more than my composure is my strength to take it all in. I'm a sucker. I suck everything in. I'm like a trash compactor of emotions and unattended pain. On the surface, everything is alright, and every mistake can be fixed, every action can be undone, each wrong thing naturally goes back to its course. The truth that I was not ever prepared to accept was that I was also a living time bomb, just like my estranged sister and my ever hostile self. Everyday, when I think of her, I am reminded of what I am. Of what I've become. I'm not exactly a good person, I was never the better person. She is. I'm too careful and un-trusting. I never trust people and I always feel that there is something more to someone's actions than what they show. In my eyes, everybody has a motive, everybody has a goal. But this is life right? Everybody wants to achieve something. Or is it just my ambitious self clouding my conscience? For all the years of hardship, the failures, foolishness, I've learned my lessons. You can never trust people. You can't even trust your feelings. Sometimes you can only trust your instinct. Because often times, it never goes wrong or it gotta be somewhere within the proximity of the truth. My emotional self hijacking has been pretty much my system lately. I hold on to my composure but at the same time it destroys me from within, and I'm the one who can feel it far worse than it can show. I've known better than to share my feelings to others. People do not really have good judgment, all they have is judgment, judgments can be dangerous things as well. If you let it in you, you lose everything. I don't know. Fuck my brains.
After a series of true love or so I thought, here I am, self-confessed emotionally unavailable twenty-two year old woman but I do have one secret. I'm waiting, and this time, I'm really waiting for the guy for me. That one guy who would really sweep me off my feet, not that I'm gonna do all the sweeping again, but literally put me on my toes. I've been watching and reading all these guys who are so ideal but not so apparent in real life, but I remain optimistic that I will find him, one day, in a time where I am most unprepared, and this joy that I would feel will feel like fleeting.
I used to imagine that my true love is some mix of the characters in the book that I read. Some guy who'd look good in a suit, or cook me dinner, would listen to me talk about the fictional characters I'm crushing on, one who'd buy me ice cream when I'm depressed, one who will dance crazy with me, or go on a trip to somewhere unknown.
My true love will be as crazy as I am, and he will love the world as much as I do. He loves the sun and my tan lines. He'd kiss my stretch marks and tell me I did not really gain weight. He would be the person whom I can tell my insecurities because I had lots of them, and no one had ever known.
One day, he will be there. And one day, I will write him letters and poems, and maybe even songs. We'd talk about classic books and he'd tell me I look good on just white oversized shirt and an underwear, and he'd tell me that I'm the most beautiful crazy eccentric being he has ever seen.
I am hoping, and waiting for him. My salvation, my happiness, my sun and my sea.
my head is a puddle of nonsense
05/29/13 I'm losing it again. I always lose it.
So, I'm visiting you.
Writing is my only salvation. Forgive me.
My hands are trembling and I am short of breath. I am once again haunted by this reckless feeling that I could not control. This anxiety bordering to verge of depression coming from this deep hole inside me. Something is not right. I don't know if it's the weather, the surge of emotion, those insurmountable things I've been coping with lately. Equally, my lack of emotion share in the same frustration. They said that getting back to this feeling of love and affection is a choice inevitably tantamount to opening my heart again. But you can't just simply open your heart. You have to steer clear of the danger. These feelings of sympathy or compassion or softness were never healthy. I have to stand my ground and if there is anything that I value more than my composure is my strength to take it all in. I'm a sucker. I suck everything in. I'm like a trash compactor of emotions and unattended pain. On the surface, everything is alright, and every mistake can be fixed, every action can be undone, each wrong thing naturally goes back to its course. The truth that I was not ever prepared to accept was that I was also a living time bomb, just like my estranged sister and my ever hostile self. Everyday, when I think of her, I am reminded of what I am. Of what I've become. I'm not exactly a good person, I was never the better person. She is. I'm too careful and un-trusting. I never trust people and I always feel that there is something more to someone's actions than what they show. In my eyes, everybody has a motive, everybody has a goal. But this is life right? Everybody wants to achieve something. Or is it just my ambitious self clouding my conscience? For all the years of hardship, the failures, foolishness, I've learned my lessons. You can never trust people. You can't even trust your feelings. Sometimes you can only trust your instinct. Because often times, it never goes wrong or it gotta be somewhere within the proximity of the truth. My emotional self hijacking has been pretty much my system lately. I hold on to my composure but at the same time it destroys me from within, and I'm the one who can feel it far worse than it can show. I've known better than to share my feelings to others. People do not really have good judgment, all they have is judgment, judgments can be dangerous things as well. If you let it in you, you lose everything. I don't know. Fuck my brains.
I'm Gixx. I started this blog two years ago when I tried to go about my insanity through documenting my musings in the night. I am now 21, graduate, again studying in law school, and I am still floating and fleeting from my existence and unconventional personality and way of living.
I maintain at least five websites but this is where I write about anything random. I read a lot of books. I love travel and I'm a sucker for zeal and wisdom.
I like to take risks. And that's where I learn. Then I write.
This blog space is owned, managed and updated by MARIA GICEL T CAMBRI. Unless with prior permission, no portion of the contents may be directly or indirectly copied, published, reproduced, modified, displayed, sold, transmitted, published or redistributed in any medium. I mean it.
Encodegixx@2010
