Skip to main content

Synonym

In the moments that I have nothing to say to you, I wonder how I'd express my emptiness. The pain of not reciprocating what you give me consumes me.

All the times that I want to look at you with the passion you look at me with, all the times I want to touch your soul with the hunger you have in you.

It's funny how the world laughs at the one who doesn't receive love in return for love, for everytime I look at myself against you, I find the irony funny. For I admire you much more than you can ever love me, I long for you much more than a mere mortal longs for salvation, but I can't love you even a bit in comparison to the vast sea of love you have within you for me.

Even with all the admiration I have for you, all the restlessness you induce in me, all I feel is a body deprived of love, for love and affection can be synonyms, but never the same.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The monotony of being different

All my life I was told I am different. Sometimes it was appreciated, sometimes not so much.  I was told I had energy unparalleled, sometimes appreciated, other times not. Some people tell me how much they admired me, some said I couldn’t be understood.  Ever since I was a child, I was told being different is good.  In school, I was told different people tend to make better lives for themselves. In movies, I was shown that the protagonist is always, well, different.  These notions influenced my perspective towards life, making me crave the feeling of being different. Having said that, I was never treated like I was different, challenging my notion of me being “different”. However, sometime back I realized that I was never treated like I was different because no one wanted me to know how different I am.  Every time something nice happened to me, every time I said something exceptional, people tried to normalize how exceptional these things were. That is when I cou...

Compulsion

I had given my heart and soul to the person who didn't have either. My affection for him was like the tempest, wrecking any ship that'd take me safe to the  shore, making my soul drench, then drown. Ironically enough, just like a soulless body is lost at sea, with no efforts to swim up to the rim, my soul drifted and swayed. For that's when I thought, to be lost is to love, and I thought I loved with my heart and soul, not knowing that the day I realise what I thought to be his guard, was a farce, and my love for him, light refracted by glass, is near. For when light is refracted by glass- probably my compulsion to reciprocate his love here,  you see colours to be different, for I mistook the wavelength of my passion for love.

Anchor

In this hour of chaos, where the mist of uncertainty clouds my mind and the poison of doubt corrupts it, I can't help but realize something. Funny, how we preach that our anchor should be someone who connects us to sanity and clears all that pushes us into the dark, but choose someone for an anchor who shatters us, fully, without leaving one ounce of our body unbroken. Funny, truly it is, that I chose my anchor to be someone much worse. At least with others, there's a chance of recuperation, for broken pieces to be brought together to form something stronger. With mine, none. My anchor consumed the flawed me, leaving no trace of who I was. Challenged every thing I believed in, only to get stronger. When they think of it this way, I see what I call my anchor, as parasitic, something far from what could possibly keep you from insanity. The idea of it feeding on me haunts them. But, I keep telling them, and maybe a part of me, that it isn't true. Speculation always ge...