eyeInk

I think I have hurt myself more with the expectations that come with love than with love itself. Don't you, too? Do you not come home expecting a message telling you to rest after a long day? Do you not stay up late sometimes, waiting for a phone call that is most likely not to come? Do you not wish you could be the reason behind someone's smile, the way s/he is to you? Do you not just wish for someone to love you? Don't you? As I keep on pondering, and as this list of "do you not"s keeps on getting longer, I think it's time I think about something else. I think it's time I stop waiting. I think it's time I start loving... ...myself.

In a place where everyone would have not known, he lives; a place where everyone would not have given a damn; where every little thing about him would have been a failure; where nobody cares about him, he lives. "People come and go," they say, and they actually do – sometimes when we need them not to. Pure insecurity is in his body and mind. Every single thing that he sees that is of others,’ reflects back to him dire. He's exhausted, and he needs the genuine love and care he is deprived of. Every night, he cries. Despite all of the problems the world has given to him, the only thing that he can do is to wipe the tears that dropped from his precious eyes for no one would do that for sure. Now here he is, fighting for what he has to. You can see him giving his best, doing everything he has to, and making the best decisions for himself. Think. With everything that the world throws to you, is it now the right time to give up? You have done too much alre...

Tonight, I find myself lounging around the balcony. Just like I did last night. And the night before. And... the other night. It's strange, really. Just some time ago, I could remember the two of us soaked under the light of the full moon, conversing about what type of weather did each of us prefer. We both agreed that the warm summer sun was better than the cold winter nights. It's strange. No matter how cold the night is, I just don't see myself going inside the warm comfort of my bedroom any minute now. Maybe it's because I'm waiting for something. It's strange. Love is strange. I don't even grow tired of waiting anymore. I think it's become a habit. To wait for your velvety voice luring me into you even deeper every time. It's like... I fall in love with you for the first time with every serenade you sing. It's like I'm taken back to the first time you held that guitar and decided you have picked me to sing for. ...