That thing called self-love
We always go back to a love we think we deserve, to something we deem comfortable. We punish ourselves when they become upset, especially if it’s something we did or say. We go head over heels thinking about efforts we can do to make them feel extraordinary. We think a lot, and yes, usually it’s them that consumes our train of thought.
This leaves us with lesser time to think about ourselves. We seldom realize that we also have needs; we’re also human beings who get tired with shiz and may sometimes want to just sleep in all day. But we have exchanged sleep for late night conversations with them or their endless booty calls, both of which they fall asleep mid-activity. We’re also human to want to pig out but we displaced it with a pang of hunger for their reciprocity of what we feel about them.
We say we crave for a love so deep, the ocean would be jealous. Yes indeed. It has been jealous since you abandoned your love for the sea for something which has made you helpless, something that drowns you a little bit more each day.
But it’s never too late to realize we are mortals; to feel human again.
Go travel, because the world we only know revolves around them.
Meet new people, because it’s silly to dedicate your life just for one person who doesn’t even know you exist until his sexual pangs take over.
Eat a lot, because you need energy to focus on your studies or deal with a daily job or commit yourself to volunteer work; because you need energy to live your life for your own terms.
Sleep, because there is nothing more peaceful than sleeping in without the thought of someone cheating on you.
Learn new things, because learning is not confined within the endless corners of the worldwide web, or your dimly-lit bedroom which you have purposely designed for your emotional brooding.
Laugh, because life is too short to be miserable.
Go back to the sea, let the water cleanse you. Let the salts penetrate your deep wounds. Be a living testimony that there is hope in pain when we become healed.
And be human; rant, speak about how your life was turned in so many ways by this unrequited love, vent it all out. Because that’s how we were intended to be.
And when we become more human, more of ourselves, we attract all the possibilities in the universe. We tread the future with our hands over our hurts, with a hope that of a romantic’s.