1. Please don’t always get lost.

You’re much too valuable than you think you are; more than you will ever know and understand. It’s bad enough that I have a horrible sense of direction and a bad memory. I swear. There is even a higher percentage that I’d stumble and mess up everything I touch. I mean it. There is absolutely no chance that I can navigate my way through this earth, let alone see and survive, if I lose you.

2. Please don’t always break.

Between the two of us, you’re the stable one. And I’m genuinely amazed at how, despite my recklessness and irresponsibility, you still manage to keep it together. The fact that you can stay calm and intact for me when my entire world’s crumbling extremely fascinates me. I have an illuminated warning sign saying “caution” on top of my head for I’m known to be destructive. But somehow, you still put up with me.

3. Please don’t think you’re worthless.

I am at my best when I am with you (in math, in sports, in looking for things, you name it). I cannot put to words how much I need you even more each day. So for all the things we’ve been through, and for all the things we will go through… For all the nights that we’ve shared, and for all the days we will continue to share... For everything and anything. I want to experience it all with you. Because I am nothing without you.

I’ve been told to keep my filth to myself.

To stay away and keep you clean and safe from the chaotic world I belonged to; told me not to drag you into this mess, because if I do, I’d surely foul you up.

I know, my life has always been in shambles.

It has never been easy, taking in too much load when I couldn’t bear it, holding in everything although I might as well explode, dealing with trash from day to day.

I get it.

To them, I’ll never be good enough for you. There will always be someone that’s much brighter, much stronger, much put-together than I am. There will always be someone more useful, more appropriate, more organized, more built, more fitting than I will ever be.

But I know you more than they do.

I know that you’re tired from everyone leaning on you for support, know that you’re deaf from all the screams you’ve heard, know that you’re sore from all the punches you’ve scored, know that you’re scared from all the nightmares you’ve shared.

I know.

Your cheeks have been stained with tears, your head has been through nightmares constantly replaying, your sides have been pushed to the extremes from all the tossing and turning late at night. When you think no one knows, when you think no one sees;

Believe me, I know.

And even though you leave me breathless, senseless; leave me even more flustered, all my insides cluttered than ever before, I do know that with you there is comfort, ease, and peace.

With me, there are leftovers; all old and forgotten wreckages that will never work. There are cobwebs in which I can’t untangle myself from. There are pieces that I will never put back together. There are parts of me that I’ll never get to use.

I’ve got two coins and a button inside my pocket – useless to everyone except me. They’re my prized possessions, yet I’m certain I’ll lose them too someday.

And I say to myself, maybe someday…

Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow. But when you’re all used up, tired from all the weight on your shoulders, weakened by all the punches and screams at night, weary from all the kicking and shoving, all the throwing and pulling, please know that I’d still be here.

And when they decide to throw you out, think of you as worthless and useless; when they see you as wrinkled and ugly, I'd still think you're beautiful in every single angle. Every stain you’d have would be another story I’d fondly listen to. Every crease in your skin would be the prettiest pleats I would have ever seen.

When that day comes, I’d gladly pick you up, dust you off, and be with you.

And by then, I’d still be the luckiest one alive.

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.