Love is Not Passive

I used to think that being in love is better than loving someone.

 

I used to think that being in love delivers a heavier baggage emotionally. It seems more moving.

 

Then I realized that it is passive. Falling out of love erases the state of being in. After you fall out, that’s it. You have reached the end, it is time to separate ways as there seems to be no more reason to stay. The state left as quickly as it came.

 

Being in love is too shallow, in my opinion.

 

Loving is… charged with perseverance.

 

You fall out of love, but if you love that person, there is nothing stopping you from continuing.

 

Part of loving is going against all odds, and actively trying to be with another in different aspects. There is a push towards another when you are loving them.

 

It’s challenging feat, to continue loving even if you don’t “feel” so. It’s more noble of a state.

 

In Theology, we defined love as “the will to extend oneself…” towards the other (in this context, at least). Loving is wanting to be with another despite the world against you.

 

Recently, the love of my life told me he was considering taking a break, just so I have no expectations when he becomes busy.

 

And that thought shook, and still shakes me to my core. How can someone who loves you even consider such a thing?

 

It questioned my worth to him. Am I not worth holding on for, that it was easy for him to think of such a thing?

 

Is he just in love with me, and does not love me?

 

Was it so easy to fall out, and leave?

 

I know I love him, he is the most important thing to me, and I am ready to face everything that stands against he and I. Yet, for him to say that to me, negates all these things I am ready to do for him.

 

My love felt unrequited, and that hurt.

 

He is worth so much to me, and it feels like I am not worth enough to him.

 

It feels like, it is so easy for him to quit, and walk away, and I’m the fool who would hold on despite hurt and all.

 

I, who loves, is not loved back, but just the one who the other is in love with.

 

It hurts. I could not explain how much.

 

In addition, he would rather not talk of what happens if the worst comes. Focusing only on the good is delusion, and lacks any care. What happens in the bad? Again, is it just that easy to let go? Easy to say that, “That’s it,”?

 

I am haunted in my thoughts, and I just want to shut the world out. I am tired of feeling unworthy.

 

 

 

~baffledtruffle

Worth It

Recently, I have been feeling like I’m an afterthought. Like, I don’t matter as much. That I’m not worthy of anyone’s attention.

 

Always the second consideration, never the first, because I never truly mattered. The question that even comes out is that, “Am I even worth anything to anyone?”

 

And then I watched this video of Mothers giving birth to their children.

 

I just could not explain how… overwhelming it is for them to meet this certain someone who have been with them for months, but never really was there.

 

The mothers were overcome with joy, tears, smiles, pride, and most importantly of all, love.

 

“It’s okay, we’ll protect you,” said a mother.

In that moment, it came to me.

 

I am worth it. My mother saw so much worth in me when she gave birth to me. How much love, sacrifices, time that went into being my mother. It overwhelms me to realize this all in one go.

 

For years, I have felt like I never mattered, but the truth is, I have always mattered. In the eyes of my parents, I always did.

 

It’s getting difficult to type this, as tears are overcoming me. It’s just that I feel so sorry for my parents as I’ve never been the perfect son to them. I feel like I have been wasting their time all my life, and

 

I probably never did.

 

Maybe this is why people always believed in me, because I have always had worth as a human being, I just never saw it.

 

And it overwhelms me as I realize it.

 

I just cannot believe I’m worth it.

 

 

 

But I am, and I always will be.

 

 

 

baffledtruffle

Returning

I don’t know where else to go tonight.

 

All I know is, that I have been yearning to write back in these virtual leaves, where my thoughts feel a little more secure, and feel judgment-free.

 

Well, these days, I have been feeling this… sinking feeling.

 

It is, however, unjust to feel this way. You see, I have committed myself to this young man. We are two busy lads, but you know,

 

I can’t help but feel disregarded. An afterthought.

 

It’s starting to feel like I’m only spoken to when convenient, loved when only convenient.

 

And that just feels terrible. We are busy, young lads, and I’m willfully trying to understand that he is busy.

 

But, I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m being neglected. Again, just an afterthought.

 

I don’t know if I have the right to feel this way, well, perhaps not. But I can’t help it.

 

Being the kind of person who despises confrontation, I like to keep things to myself most of the time. What pain, anger felt is bottled within. Without writing, I feel more cramped inside, pressure building up ever more quickly.

 

And it does not feel great.

 

It’s been two years since I’ve written here, I apologize for returning like this, but I’ve nowhere else to go.

 

I hope you understand.

 

 

~baffledtruffle

Eyes to the Blood and Dark

“It’s just unnatural, you know? Men are meant for women and vice versa.”

 

 

“Don’t call it marriage, you’re offending my religion!”

 

 

“Ugh, gay people. Disgusting.” (My cousin actually said this.)

 

 

 

 

I’ve reached the point of really trying not to mind such hateful comments I see on the Internet. The world is full of ignorant bigots who never really checked their privilege.

 

 

 

Right now, I am very much envious of my American brothers and sisters because of the recent SC ruling. It’s great that the most influential country of the world has done such a huge step towards equality. It is met with some criticisms, but you know what they say, love wins.

 

 

 

I just wish I could have that, you know?

 

 

 

I wish I could marry someone who’d be special sometime in the near future. I don’t need the church to recognize the marriage, I need the law to recognize it. What if I lay in bed when I’m dying, and my spouse won’t be let in just ’cause he isn’t family?

 

 

 

I am sick and tired of hearing people getting offended because “it’s against my religion”. Well, you can opt what religion suits you, hunty. It’s not like I have the chance to do that with my sexuality.

 

 

 

It’s just I’m so done with “I accept homosexuals, but I don’t agree with you” bullshit. All I can say is fuck you and your stupid-ass beliefs.

 

 

 

But I never speak up. I never fight back.

 

 

 

Because I’m scared.

 

 

 

The environment I’m living in right now? Not safe.

 

 

 

I feel like when I spread my wings, the walls will crumble and break my wings. Feather by feather. Bone by bone.

 

 

I will keep dripping, losing blood; helpless, lonely and void of anything inside.

 

 

No more colors for pride, just black and white.

 

 

I feel like I should cry sometime. But I can’t.

 

 

It just isn’t easy to live in a world so against you. I wish I had choices.

 

 

But I don’t.

 

 

Sad part isno one really understands.

 

 

I am getting chills as the cold, rainy air caresses my skin. It just deepens the feeling of void I feel inside.

 

 

It’s like a chiller in there. All guts, all ice. 

 

 

I don’t like egotistical, heterosexual males, but unfortunately, I live with many. Ignorant and dense too, I must say. I hope their egos backfire on them. Stupid dicks.

 

 

Ah well, I’ll end this post with a shitty sonnet I wrote for my literature class.

 

 

Sonnet Aye

In a night of despair and gloominess
I long for freedom to speak, to reveal
The truth of me (I so wish to express)
That I do not carry the color teal

Instead, my colors are obscure, unseen
But far more vibrant than all of his streaks
Yet the fear of defiance plagues my screen
Thus, silence is held by the freak of freaks

In my solitude, there exist my woes
As the freak of freaks, I remain alone
Not one soul dares to tap even my toes
Thus tears in my eyes so brilliantly shone

Alas, thy arrival hast freed me, dear
Thy iridescent heart, beating, I hear!

 

 

 

 

~baffledtruffle

Alone

They say when you’re with someone you love, time flies by so fast. So quick, that hours turn into seconds, love is just so beautiful, so mesmerizing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

But love isn’t something I was born to have.

 

 

 

 

I’m in a house full of people, yet I feel like I everyone around me are just souls sulking around. Ignoring my existence. Resisting my touch.

 

I walk along the streets full of people, yet the mindless chatter speak like cicada’s singing at night.

 

I live in a world full of people, yet I don’t feel the warmth. I don’t feel like someone was bound to live with me, let alone love.

 

 

As I write this, how will I be able to love without experiencing loss? Is that a prerequisite? Does love hurt? Will pain be eased by love?

 

 

Does being alone guarantee loneliness? Will the songs I sing fade into the memory of the cement walls who can’t help but listen?

 

Humans are meant for interaction, they say, yet I feel like the universe is repulsed by my existence. As if I have this force field surrounding me, pushing everything away. I cease to interact. Therefore, do I cease to exist?

 

I keep thinking of words to write, but is someone out there to read and live the memory of my words?

 

Will everyone who has heard my voice remember the way it sounded? Play it in their heads, imagine it singing the songs I loved to sing?

 

Will anyone even remember my sole existence? Will everything I’ve ever done matter? Will all of it be significant?

 

I struggle to find solace on my own. But I still doubt that this “me” can turn into “we”.

 

I feel like inside of me is a complete void. A space of nothingness. As much as I want it to be filled, who will fill it out for me?

 

Will I ever find someone to fill it? Completely, eternally? Or they’d just fill it for now, empty it later?

 

My thoughts only ask the most horrifying things. What if I never really had friends? What if I were really destined to be alone?

 

What if love was never meant to a dull creature like me?

 

What if my life is just a bunch of codes, and it never saw the light of the physical sun?

 

What if my heart remains cold forever?

What if all that’s left is weeping and loneliness?

 

What if all that’s left is to be alone?

 

 

 

 

 

I grow uncertain everyday. I become emptier. All the chances I had were taken away. What are the chances that I could have any more chances? And would those chances turn out to be just to make me hope? Or would they turn into my fairy tale reality?

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wind blows, but my eyes try to defy sleep. But I write. But I think.

 

 

When will I be free?

 

 

 

From all this hiding. Concealing. Covering.

 

 

 

I just want out. Out. Out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baffledtruffle’s note: I just finished “The Love of Siam” tonight. It was an interesting one. Heartbreaking, and sort of excruciatingly long. I needed a good cry. Thanks for that.

 

 

Truffles.

Still Single?

I’ve no idea why you’re still single! I mean, with that personality, you’re just irresistible!

~ Someone who mattered

You know those thoughts at the back of your head that keep haunting you?

Well, they haunted me again.

Sometimes, it just feels so stupid that I keep thinking that I’m gonna end up alone, forever.

I mean, it’s too early to tell, isn’t it?

They say you’ve probably met “the one” once you’ve reached 16.

I can only think of it as pure bullshit.

But, what if found my “one” a little too late?

What if they’re married, or dead, or… whatever that may prevent me from being with them?

What if fate decides to be cruel to me and leave me to myself for my whole life?

Why should it matter?

Why should I care?

I don’t wanna be alone. I’m just so scared to live my whole life without having a witness through it. Someone I can share my good and bad times with. Someone I can entrust with my all. Someone who’ll give everything they’ve got to me as I give them mine.

Is that too much to ask?

Am I too young to ponder?

My head rolls around like a dog in a field of grass. It’s like my thoughts are an arm but the bandage, my head, can’t wrap around it.

I keep thinking of the line “My loneliness is killing me” from one of Britney Spears’ songs.

Should loneliness be considered a murderer?

Should I die from being lonely?

Whatta way to go.

Sometimes I just feel so void and empty, cold blood runs down my tired veins. But sometimes I feel like it’s all sunshine and rainbows all over. But I can’t get this anxiety off of my mind?

What if I’m still single at 70?

Where could I find my happiness? At the solace of my friends? At the fences of my family?

Am I too much to deal with that no one wants to have anything to do with me?

Am I far too complex to break down?

Did my walls grow too far up that no one could scale them?

Would my heart turn cold lower than absolute zero?

I’ve too many questions. At this point, I’m too afraid to even ask. Or even want to know what the answers are.

Lead on, fate. I’ll be waiting for whatever you’re cooking for me. It’d better be good, though.

~baffledtruffle

Dream Entry – 1

I’ve decided I would try to write my dreams here, just so I could remember it. It makes this supposed diary a diary of anything, I suppose. Now, part of it is a dream journal…

 

 

 

It’s one of those weird ones again.

 

We’re in this dining room of sorts: white tablecloth, with two people with me sitting at the table. My mom is just a blur in the corner, doing god knows what. It’s just how our house is laid out, with the bathroom right beside the dining room.

 

It is divided into two scenes. The first scene is a blur now, I was doing something with someone, on the dining table of course. Ah, this guy was doing something with another guy. My mom calls out that me and my sister should do better than their ice cream… mold or carving. I don’t know what the fuck is that supposed to be.

 

Cut to the 2nd scene. We were on a bed (probably in my parents’ bedroom). Turns out that the other guy is my boyfriend. All I can seem to remember is that he’s about fifteen or fourteen (about 2-3 years younger than me), and he has striking green eyes. I can still remember how it looks, and how striking they are. I seemed to be fascinated by his eyes, and I enjoyed cuddling with him in bed.

 

I’ve no idea why I loved touching his skin, and talking to him. We were just… talking. And I give him little kisses here and there, and he smiles at me with those startling green eyes. I remember how it settled perfectly in the back of my mind. His touch, his presence… all was perfect. His presence in my life and right at that moment, it was so beautiful. I felt… euphoric.

 

A few moments later, he urged me to get out of bed. Gone back to the dining room. Probably did something like weird ice cream carvings or whatever, then I woke up.

 

 

Dreams are weird.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~baffledtruffle