unwritten

i love him.
how should i explain? there are a lot of thoughts going through my head that i only want him to read but he will not because he does not care anymore, and he thinks i am crazy regardless since we do not or will we ever see eye to eye. it is true - there are countless more times that he has made me cry, question my self-worth, and wonder what i deserved such pitiful treatment, than the times he has made me smile, laugh, and forget about my worries. but those moments were amazing. 

i wish i could put away the bitterness. not just lock it up, but let it go. stop holding grudges, k. just stop! what is wrong with you? now you are left with nothing, just books, old notes, a mouthful of tears and a soaking blanket that you two once called fatty. why couldn’t you just let him love you? did you think he was just never going to leave? that he was going to be your stupid tomato forever and just deal with your crap? never expect that someone else has the same patience as you do; maybe you believe that your love for someone else can help you stick out any shit they want to throw at you, but don’t believe that belief is reciprocal. they will leave. and you will be left with nothing.

it has been three days, and i already know this is not like the other break-ups. there is a sense of absolute definitiveness, and i cannot seem to accept it. i keep revisiting old e-mails, old cards, old voicemails, thinking i will be brought back to that time. i guess right now i just wanted to come back to this blog and throw up everything that i can think of - maybe i will tire myself out and fall back asleep. (it seems like i always come back here after relationship tragedies.)

i hated the way you treated me on your birthday. how i went out to buy you a tiramisu cake that i hate, and went through all the trouble to get your a birthday present, and make reservations for that thai restaurant, only for you to be drunk from the night before and kick me out. and in fear of losing me, you called me a million times the next day, first stubborn, then anxious, and finally showing at my door with white tiger lilies. they were beautiful, and i immediately forgave you when you held me in your arms and wouldn’t let me go. that was the last time you ever got me flowers.

speaking of birthdays, i hated you on my birthday too, when you didn’t seem to realize the importance of it, and didn’t make a big deal, but i wanted you to make it a big deal - it was my fucking birthday! and i wanted to break up with you because i kept waiting for you to bring it up and you didn’t, but i couldn’t hold it in anymore and i just blurted out “did you know my birthday was this weekend” and you said “of course.” by then i had already made dinner plans with my best friend, but you were gonna spend the afternoon with me, and i left it free or else i could’ve went to work and made 30 dollars, but then you said you had to work for your parents. i didn’t see you until like 15 minutes after my birthday, and i had to come to you. and i brought you cake from serendipity. you gave me nothing. not even a card, or a flower. it was my twenty-first birthday. 

i miss our telephone conversations, when you were two hours away at school, and you’d call me in regardless of having to do your math thesis, or study for your MCATs. we’d talk about the most random things and they would last to four or five in the morning, because you have at&t and i have t-mobile so we could only talk freely after nine o’clock and you’d freak out about needing to go finish your work and then you wouldn’t sleep. i remember once i almost used up all my minutes that month and i almost decided to change my plan to 1000 minutes, but then you realized you kept going overboard, so we kept our talking to a minimum until 9 o’clock. and then you’d call me when you were drunk too, which was irritating because i wanted to sleep. and sometimes you’d call just because you were awake doing homework, and wanted me to suffer the same thing. i would always pick up. and when we’d fight, you’d always call back. you never call back anymore. never. not that you have to anymore.

i miss lying in bed with you. so much. i feel so lonely in my bed right now, although we would always be in yours. we were never able to sleep throughout the night, but i think you underestimated how we could sleep because we took naps together too and that went fine. really well actually. and i can’t stop thinking of the more recent times, when you asked if you could finally be the little spoon and i said okay so you could rest comfortably (i liked wrapping my arm around your chest anyway, and having your head rest on mine.) when you would mumble something in your sleep and i would think you were just sleep talking so i would ignore you, but then you would nuzzle your nose in my chubby chubby cheeks that you love to make fun of and say “i’m talking to you.” i was so confused, but now i know that i loved your voice when you were sleep-talking to me. and the way i would have difficulty scratching my back, so you go “i’ll itch it for you,” and you scratch my back for me? i always wanted to say “who says “i’ll itch it for you?” you can’t itch something, but i never did because i thought it was adorable and i was grateful for your gesture. and you would rub my tummy when i had cramps every month and offer to get me advil. i liked sending you text messages like “i want to rip out my uterus!” and you would just say “i’m sorry babe.” i remember wishing one time you’d said more, but now it seems just enough. 

it’s true that you told me to get out of your house once. and out of your room yesterday. and let me storm out of the house twice last month. but for all those other fights where you didn’t let me go, where you fought me with limbs sprawled in awkward positions, scratch marks on your arms, and kicks in your stomach, i want that back. i want that time when i ended up straight bawling my eyes out, and all you did was carry me to your pillow and hold me until i tired myself out. you almost suffocated me by practically lying on top of me, but i loved you so much and it terrified me. i just wanted to know that you loved me just as much. i promise i won’t leave again. i just did it to know that you’d fight for me when i felt like giving up. but i won’t do it anymore. i promise. 

it’s funny how on wednesday when we usually meet up after work to take the bus home, after not speaking to you for a day and looking out the window on the bus, i thought “this isn’t so bad. i could do this without him. maybe we should take a break after all.” but of course, it was false. when you sent me that text, my heart crashed like it always did whenever you broke up with me, and i couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. i keep holding out for that apology, that “i didn’t mean it,” like you didn’t mean it the fifty other times, and i will gladly jump back in your arms - if you asked for me to come back, i will blindly take your hand, no fights this time, i promise. 

and it is pathetic. pathetic of me to be offering my dignity away like this, like i always have for you. i am hesitant on publishing this on the site where i know you would find it (that is if you even bother searching about me anymore since you want nothing to do with me anymore) but i am torn between whether i want you to see it or not. that is the constant struggle between us, the ideology of being weak in one another’s eyes. isn’t love suppose to make one weak and humble to one another, and rely on each other for strength? obviously not for us. i want you to read this to know that i will appease my stubbornness and pride for you, because i miss you just that much, and with whatever words and actions i can’t show you in person, i express it through writing. you told me to write to you, and here it is. are you still awake to read it? i know the things you do for me, like making the effort to buy me passion fruit green tea with mixed jelly, and then again with green apple green tea with lychee jelly and tapioca. god that made me so ridiculously happy - isn’t that hilarious? i was so giddy inside last monday and tuesday when you remembered and i kept thinking “he loves me, he’s trying and he loves me,” and all i wanted to do was shower you with kisses and love you…but you didn’t seem to want it. and i felt strange. i felt denied of my affections, although i had my drink in my hand. i didn’t understand it. is that the fickleness of a human heart? 

my stubbornness remains in the fact that i am posting this on tastyword, and if i have the courage to post it on something else, i will delete it far before you may have a chance to read it. my pride refuses to allow your ego to inflate and know that i am wrapped around your fingers, that you may discard me as you please. it isn’t right. i deserve to be treated with respect and love, and the lack of it in the ways that you criticize me, and yell at me, and refuse to understand my points of view and make it sound too often that i am the difficult, insane, ridiculously childish one, and never make an effort to celebrate the holidays with me, or go out with me, or remember anniversaries, perhaps simply because i am not good enough for you, or you don’t get your ultimate primitive reward,  hurts. but i love you. 

i do love you. never have the audacity to question me when i say that. i love the scar on your nose that you got a few days before you met me. i love the way you boast about how good your hair looks, and how great your jaw structure is, like james dean. i love the way you say the most ridiculous things in the most ridiculous way that i can only laugh and call you an idiot and you have to confidence that i envy of looking like a fool and never caring. i love the way you hold me, like my body fits yours, and i love the way you kiss my skin, especially when you kiss up my arm, and you stare in my eyes when you reach the wrist. i love that you always let me be the little spoon, and you get upset when i turn away from you, so you whisper “come here, come back to me,” and i don’t always comply but i want to tell you that i am here. that i always want to be here with you no matter what i say otherwise. my awkward personality could never show you the way i love you through the touches and movements that you give me, but i am learning. i need someone like you to teach me. and to read this, and to read between the lines, to understand that this is my deepest expression of emotion that i could have the courage to do - to write something, if not somewhat dramatic (but what is writing freely without being a tiny bit dramatic), straight from my incoherent and frazzled mind and heart. 

in the end, i want to say that i don’t care. i don’t care how stupid or pathetic or ridiculous it is on how much pain i can take or am going to take. i don’t care what other people think, even if they are just watching out for me, and worried for me, because they don’t feel what i am feeling right now, and chances are, they will never be stupid enough or weak enough to put themselves in a situation like this. but i am. i am weak, and i am naive, and i am stupid and pathetic, because i want to be with you regardless of what i know will end in leaving me like this all over again in a few days, weeks, months if i’m lucky. i don’t care, like i didn’t care before every other time you asked me to come back. like i said before, and i will say it again “everyone will fucking tell you that you deserve better, but no one will ever give it to you.” so why should i let go of something i want now in hopes for a chance at something better? what if it’s worse? fine, i am being silly - but again. i don’t care. the only thing that honestly i care about is how hurt my pride is right now that i am admitting that i need him, and even that thought seems almost minuscule to that fact of how much i have missed him in the past few days. what if he laughs? what if he doesn’t even read it? or care to read it? or just doesn’t care? 

what if i am putting my heart and all into this, and he still just doesn’t care? then that really is, whether i love him or not, the end.