
If I could see farther
than my will, my half-blindness allows,
would I have wanted to see things for what they are?
Probably not.
Or maybe just wondering rather than wanting
is a truer start.
Just another WordPress.com site
If I could see farther
than my will, my half-blindness allows,
would I have wanted to see things for what they are?
Probably not.
Or maybe just wondering rather than wanting
is a truer start.
Everyday I dislike my love
for you a little bit more.
All this talk about convenience,
about being of use to each other
should not be called love.
If I love you because you understand me
then it is not you who I love
but anyone who can understands me.
“i am comfortable with you” “you make me feel special”
“you can heal me” “i like spending time with you”
“you listen to me” “you treat me well”
“you are beautiful” (how you look pleases my eyes and my heart)
My liking you
seems more about me than about you.
I am disappointed by how I love only for myself.
Why aren’t you?
I am <so> and <so> because
I am <all innocent qualities which I don’t really have>
and people are <all words that can paint a thorough villainous caricature for my convenience>,
people treat me like <unpleasant words that are at least half-true>
just because I let them.
After all these years, is it any wonder that I act like
<everything I hated in the people who supposedly made me suffer>.
So you must accept me as I am.
I have suffered enough.
I have reason for acting like what I do.
I was once <completely opposite of what I am today> and that is what I still am deep inside.
So you must wait and support and love me even I am unbearable.
The life that runs ahead of me
and the one that I take and drag behind
all center around the habits and frienships
built for the conveniences
of a sorrow that I cannot date.