I’ve always been bold, or at least I think I am. I would rather have things happen to me than to my loved ones, because I feel like I can handle it better, and because I don’t want them to go through the pain. I feel like it’s better for me to go than for them to go.
But not anymore. I think they would be very sad if I went. How would they know I’m okay with going? How would they know that I’m good where I am? How would they know I’m beaming down on them? Who would tell them?
I guess that’s probably how our loved ones who have gone too soon feel; they wish to let us know they’re at peace.
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Dreamstime.com There is this thing that happens where fate keeps throwing someone into your path. Someone you never thought you would be interested in. You have had encounters with such a person, and they have been uneventful. But one day, the person notices you, or you have this short, cute moment, and then suddenly your subsequent encounters with the person become eventful. You begin to see them frequently. You notice someone you’ve never noticed before. You want someone you never cared to notice to notice you.
This keeps happening to me, and the moral lesson I’ve learned here is to prevent those encounters that would make subsequent ones eventful. Because my heart is feeble. Anytime I have a guy walk up to me and speak to me, anytime a guy smiles at me or laughs with me, anytime a guy shows me kindness, I’m a goner because I begin to take interest in him. My brain seems to find a connection and my mind fixates on that connection, even if he is not my dream guy.
Thus, I need any sensible guy out there to stay far away from me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t smile at me. Don’t laugh with me. Don’t show me any kindness. Don’t do things that will make it seem like you care. Because if you do, you just might regret it and you will have only yourself to blame. Because I won’t be able to stop those feelings that might come my way if you keep up the perfect man act!
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you shouldn’t treat me right. Treat me right! Every lady out there should be treated right. But don’t go acting like the perfect guy for me.
Dreamstime.com -
There is this quote attributed to Mahatma Gandhi: No one can hurt me without my permission. It sounds inspiring and motivating to hear, say, and keep in mind.
But oh boy, how does it work? How does this ‘permission’ thing work? How do I withhold my permission from the kind of things that will only bring hurt to me?
It really does not seem plausible or feasible, at least to me. Because they hurt me even when I have not given them permission to do so. They do not need my permission to hurt me.
I get hurt; my tears fall, my eyes burn, my nose runs, my head aches, but most importantly, my heart bleeds. It bleeds figuratively; I do not feel any sharp, wrenching pain in my chest, but I do feel this overwhelming sadness that prompts tears that I can’t control.
So now I ask, is it really feasible? Is there truly a way to withhold permission and avoid getting hurt? Please share.
Crying eye by hg-art on DeviantArt -
People get it wrong when they say speed is the most important skill a runner should possess. I believe that it is not enough to have the speed like that of the lightning, there’s much more needed. A good runner must know how to tell the time. He must know how to tell when it is time to take flight.
I know this because I am a runner, a good one at that. All my life, I have been running. I have only survived and made it this far not because of my speed, but because of my ability to tell the time.
If you are one of my kind, you would understand why we need to run. Running is second nature for people like us. It has become some sort of survival kit for people who loathe confrontations like we do.
Motivational speakers have it easy, don’t they? They say things that are easy to say and sweet to hear. But do they know how difficult it is to act on their words? They say we should get out of our closets and confront our demons, but have they ever confronted theirs? Do they think confrontation is mere child’s play? Don’t they realize that demons are called demons for a reason?
Call us weaklings, we don’t mind. You just don’t and can’t understand us unless you are one of our kind. Can you understand how scary it is to face these confrontations? Can you fathom how these confrontations can either make or break us? Can you understand how it is just so easy to run away from these confrontations by hiding in the closet, deafening the ears with music, or by taking a literal run rather than having to face the real deal? Can you also understand the importance of telling the time, the importance of knowing when it is time to avoid confrontation?
It is not enough to have the speed needed for a swift race; one needs to know the exact time one needs to run the swift race.
Hello Woodlands -
If my Mum says I am lazy because I hate chores and I prefer lazing around, you should know that I am lazy in that sense and not only in that sense.
I am not just averse to chores. My laziness doesn’t stop there because I am also lazy in my interactions and relationships. A cute guy smiles at me; I smile back, and I make it end there. I do nothing even when I know my heart is doing something different from its regular beating. I meet a girl whom I think or sense that we can become very good friends because we seem to have a lot in common, but I do nothing. I don’t ask for her number as she gets off the bus. I get to meet new friends, we vibe, and have a great time. They won’t always be here, and I know it. So the moment life separates us, I let them go, failing to preserve our relationship.
It has been two years since I let him go. Two years since I saw his black eyes that shone whenever they saw me; his not-so-prominent dimples that only seemed to appear whenever he was talking to me; his hair that looked frizzy but seems to soften and allow itself to be tamed when my hands play with the curls. Two years since I last touched that face of his— that face that seems to haunt me in my dreams; that face that I have tried and failed to forget. Two years since I last heard his voice— since I last heard him say my name.
I let him go like I let go of my past relationships, not because I wanted to but because I had to. Life decided that it was time we moved on to different phases of our lives. Who am I to decide against that?
You can conclude that I am lazy because I avoid chores and I don’t fight to save my relationships. I am lazy because I let them go when we are apart and no longer have any business in seeing each other. But I am not that lazy, I think. Because I would have fought if they fought for me, for us. -
Your insides are eating you up. At the same time, it seems like you can’t breathe anymore. Breathe, Favour. It’s a mantra you keep repeating. You’re trying to stop the panic, control your breathing, and, at the same time, have to force a laugh at the dining table in response to the joke your father just made. Baby, whoever says you can’t multitask is a liar.
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D, we exchange the usual pleasantries whenever we see.
Sometimes, we say more than our pleasantries but our interactions do not exceed a minute or two.
I yearn for more. I’m very much interested in you. It seems like you’re interested in me but I can’t tell for sure.
So on this very day when you stopped me after exchanging pleasantries, I figured you were interested and my heart beat a little faster and harder.
You stopped me and asked me a question.
A silly, harmless question that would have required the usual eye roll or a sassy response I give to anyone who asks.
But with you, it would have been different.
A question like that from someone like you shows that you are kinda interested in me. It is a green light for me; for us.
But I couldn’t answer your question or even give the usual eye roll or a sassy response because of the manner in which you asked me the question.
D, I had to walk away from you, from the idea of us.
There you are playing with your jock friends. I can hear that voice of yours that I very much liked. The voice that caused the never-ending swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I guess you are your normal self again.
But here I am expressing my disappointment on a fresh page on my screen.
Disappointed in you because of the manner in which you asked me the question.
I am disappointed because it seemed like you didn’t respect me by asking the question you asked in the manner in which you asked.
I am disappointed in myself for harbouring this crush in my heart for too long.
The signs were there all this time but I refused to see. The promise I made to myself is still hanging over my head, but I failed to remember until today.
Today, I remembered that as pretty as it seems in the movies and TV shows I watch, I don’t want to be that girl.
I don’t want to be the girl who sits by his side and does nothing despite being aware of his condition.
I also don’t want to be the one girl who stands by his side and helps fight his addiction.
I am not cut out for that; sadly, no one is.
But I refuse to know or have a taste of what it is like to be continually blinded by love and fail to see when a person is beyond redemption.
And so I walked away from a year-and-some-months-old crush when he asked if I had a boyfriend while he was high on whatever his dealer serves him. -
I’ve been listening to “What a Time” by Julia Michaels ft. Niall Horan on repeat these days and I remember those times.
I think about those times when you were so sweet to me. I think about how I felt back then and how easy it was to like you.
I think of those days I waited up for you and when you came in, I acted like it was nothing new- like you didn’t upset my stomach with butterflies when I heard your voice. What a time!
I think of the times you would come sit by my side and talk to me. We would lock eyes and speak for minutes. I remember how short it was and how my heart yearned for more time with you. What a time!
I think of the days you would come to me and entrust something of yours with me. I felt like you wanted to engage me or perhaps you trusted me with your belongings. I loved that. What a time!
I think of that time when you twirled my hair around your fingers and you asked me silly questions. I liked that, and I wanted you to do that again or never stop. What a time!
I think of the way every part of you acted out when we were together- the way you spoke to me with your eyes crinkling with every word, your lips smiling, laughing, and teasing, and your hands never still but always in your hair, my hair, or your face. What a time!
Was it all a lie because we don’t do that anymore? Was it all a lie because we don’t even talk anymore? I have your number saved; you have mine saved. We view each other’s status on WhatsApp, but that’s where it all ends.
Regardless, what a time it was with you! What a time! What a time!
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I am in my twenties.
I am bored sometimes and lonely deep down. I have my family around, I’ve friends I’m quite close with, but they don’t fit the purpose I need.
I need someone who would love and care for me but not in the platonic way. I need someone who I would get to know and who would get to know me genuinely. I need someone who I can trust well enough to tell my stories and burdens. I need someone who would disturb me with messages and calls, even if I don’t originally like phone calls. I need someone who I would love to meet and we would most probably have secret little rendezvous. I need a guy who would actualize my dream guy into reality.
I had a new guy talk to me days ago but I froze up, not initially though. We talked for days but later on, I willed the conversation to end. And it ended when I refused to reply to his last text.
I have been a sapiosexual right from when I discovered the word. I want a guy who is intellectually appealing. A guy who would rouse my emotions just by his words. A guy who I wouldn’t give a one-word reply to because his question is not deserving a one-word reply. A guy who would communicate efficiently both physically and online. Someone who would use the right words. Someone who can differentiate between “am” and “I’m”, “here” and “hear”, and the likes. Someone who would use his punctuations. Even if he isn’t the type to end his words with full stop, he should be the type to use the necessary punctuations to avoid jumbled words.
In all, someone who’s intellectually sound to know how to hold and carry a conversation. Someone who would not ask inappropriate questions because a man of intellect wouldn’t. Someone who wouldn’t ask deeply personal questions on day 3 of our meeting because a man with manners wouldn’t.
The new guy didn’t have all these qualities I appreciate in a guy. Hence, I found our conversations difficult and unappealing. I continued with the conversation because a part of me was blaming my reluctance on the high standards I’ve set, fueled by the dramas I watch. I continued because a part of me was telling me that it’s the norms these days for guys to speak like that. I continued because a part of me reminded me how lonely I’ve been and how lonelier I would be if I had no new interests to talk to. I continued because, to be honest, I have always wanted a new guy to notice me so we can forge a new relationship.
I eventually ended the conversations when I aired him. I didn’t mean to but I found the opportunity not to reply and I took it. I don’t think he was hurt or he is hurt because it is still new and not too deep for either of us. But tell me, why I still check out for his name whenever I open the WhatsApp app to see if a new message from him has popped up?
Am I setting myself up? Do I’ve high standards? Has the k-drama standard infiltrated my head so bad that I expect to date my dream guy and nothing else? Is this how it’s going to be? Will I ever meet a guy who would be both intellectually sound and courteous in this Gen Z time and age? Someone who would take it slow with me but still keep the fire burning? Someone who would treat me like a lady and keep away his dirty thoughts from me? Someone who would challenge me to say all I have to say and still keep up with me? Someone who would rouse the fire in me and still be able to tame the fire? Someone who would. . . make sure I’m not out of words?
iStock -
You want to inflict pain on yourself, but you can’t seem to because you don’t seem to understand why people would choose to hurt themselves by themselves.
Later on, you come to understand why they do it and you manage to do it too. But it still lacks the degree of force that others use on you.
You want to exert the pain in that exact degree they use on you, just so you can feel the exact pain you feel whenever they touch you; or to prove that the bites, blows have no effect on you; or to prove that you alone can hurt yourself.
theWildThings 