It was never my intention to post this on a page where people I know could possibly be reading this. You know I’m not one to trust so easily, but you’re one of the few people who get to read what I write, especially for leisure. You know how I write – you get amazed at how well I could. So here I am, pushing myself to write to you in public, just to show you how much you mean to me. It honours me to be the first person you were ever serious for, the first person you’ve ever been in love with, the first person you’ve stayed with for this long. Maybe it would come to a point where time and distance would interfere, and yes, I dread everything about this, but I do hope we’d stay together for as long as we can. Thank you – for tolerating me, my attitude, my personality – everything. Thank you for being one of the nicest, kindest, gentlest people I know. If ever it’s not me and you in the end, the person who will end up waking up next to you for the rest of your life will be one of the luckiest people in the world, because God knows how lucky I already am with you now. So here’s to us, and here’s to you:

02/09/15 – Caffeine on a Monday

You always get mad at me when I drink coffee. You say it’s bad for my health because you know that the walls of my stomach will be slowly dissolved by the acid. You only buy me coffee when I need it, especially on Thursdays. You know I can’t stand Thursdays. Long periods of I-don’t-care and God-kill-me-now separated by only two breaks of half-an-hour. You know that if I do not get my coffee fix every Thursday, I will end up strangling someone, most possibly myself. But I still get occasional escapes, and when you’d find out, you’d give me this look that would make me feel guilty. Only because I am. It’s an acquired taste – I have never needed it up until the last two years of high school. Most of the time, I don’t really need it. But I want it. The caffeine heightening my senses, the way it blends with cream and sugar, enjoyed hot or cold or blended. I want it. I couldn’t get enough of it. I couldn’t stay away. Lush dark brown and aromatic – the only thing that could make me stand the myriad nuisances that would normally make me seethe with hatred and annoyance.

I love coffee. It reminds me of your skin – the way it contains your flesh and blood and bones – smooth, soft, and supple. Like summer, autumn, and spring; earthy, warm, and mellow. It reminds me of your eyes, like clear honey – golden brown. I swear to God, your eyes are like the fires that light up hearths on a cold winter day, and I swear to God, I’ve seen universes in them. And everytime sunlight crosses them, they get brighter and full of life. And when you look at me, it’s like you’re looking at a masterpiece, when in fact, you are not. It reminds me of how sweet you taste and how your sweetness envelops your words like I could be covered in ants any minute.

Yet coffee contains this bitter aftertaste; it reminds me of everything that’s keeping us apart. I drink it anyway. Because I don’t need it – I want it. I want to drink it. I will take coffee’s sweet bitterness if that meant getting to feel whole and in control and energized. I will take every obstacle if that meant getting to be with you, getting to have you in the end, I swear to God, I will take it. It’s an acquired feeling – I have never needed you or anyone since high school ended. I don’t really need you, but, oh God, how I want you. I want you, and I couldn’t get enough of you. I couldn’t stay away from you. Everytime your lithe arms wrap around me, every time I see the truth in your eyes, you convince me that everything will be alright, that the nuisances will go away, that my demons will tame themselves eventually. Everytime you hold me like you’re never letting go, everytime the coffee-you analogy sits well in my stomach, I think maybe, just maybe, I need you, but just a little bit.