A Quote That Will Completely Change The Way You Think About Love

So perhaps this is a running theme. My subsequent thought catalog reblogs points out the same thought: don’t be afraid of being the one who loves more, who showers the significant (or even the unrequited) one with affection. Yeah, TC is on a roll these days.

Thought Catalog

Recently I came across a love quote and up until this day I’m still quite surprised by how much it has made me reflect on the way I see love and how I love. The quote comes from a 1996 film called Dream for an Insomniac:

QuoteCatalog32

This quote grips me, because it’s antithetical to what I’d previously believed in. I had always advised my girlfriends, NEVER invest more than what you think the other party is putting in: “Don’t like/love him more than he likes/loves you.” Because it’s not safe for your heart. Because you might get hurt, you might fall too deep, you might lose control of your own emotions and thoughts. Because he might not be worth it after all.

But I was wrong. Now I know otherwise.

Love should be mad, reckless and dangerous. It ought to be! It should require your every ounce of courage…

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The One Who Cares Less

My friend made me read this earlier. I guess it’s relevant to what she’s going through, so it struck a chord. I just didn’t expect to be so affected by it as well.

Rather than caring less, oftentimes I pretend to do so even though I feel the opposite. I have the same thought on the matter as the author – letting your guard down means exposing yourself to potential hurt inflicted towards you. And so I don’t even try. Or so I tell myself.

But there are just times when avoidance is not enough; you can’t help but just feel things, even though you’d rather not. Add to that the fact that I’m admittedly socially awkward, not knowing how to express my emotions well. This just boils down to me being misunderstood by the people around me.

I guess, I may not be the one who cares less – I probably am the one who cares more. I’m just too afraid to show that I do. I really do.

Thought Catalog

I’ve often heard that people only start wanting you when they think that you don’t want them. It’s true; I’ve lived by it. Whether its business or friendships or especially romantic relationships, the person who cares less always seems to be the person who has the most power. At least that’s what it might feel like for the person that cares more. But I question whether this is true or not.

I have been called the, “queen of not giving a shit.” One of my many talents is that I am really good at both not actually caring, as well as acting like I don’t care. Just yesterday, some girlfriends and I were talking about boys and I quoted Almost Famous as my romance mantra, “If you never take it seriously, you never get hurt.” And it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve ultimately come off as cynical about relationships…

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The One Person You Never Really Get Over

Saving this read for a rainy day… because I don’t intend on reading it tonight :))

 

July 29,2013: Gosh. Though I skimmed some of the parts (yeah, I couldn’t really relate), there were excerpts that got to me. Like this one:

You’re not over this person probably because they could never love you back the way you wanted them to, the way you needed them to. They were a defective toy that couldn’t be fixed at the shop. This made you so angry and so sad and you tried just so damn hard and everyone knew it but it didn’t work. Not one bit. Because of this, your business with them will always seem unfinished. You couldn’t conquer them and seal the deal, which made getting any kind of closure difficult. Your closure needs to be done on your own. You have to accept that this person will never give you the answers you want them to.

Okay, I just quoted a whole passage. But part of the problem also lies in me; I’m too chicken to admit anything, and so this bottled up feelings never found an outlet for release. Maybe the next time we meet, I’ll be stronger. I can tell him, make fun of it, and then move on. Because honestly, I’m tired of going back over and over again to the same emotions when I know it’s a lost cause.

Thought Catalog

There will always be that one person you’ll never really get over. I know, I know, Connie Chung delivering groundbreaking news over here, but it’s true. Sure, you can go days, weeks, months, years without thinking of them but the second you see their face or their name gets mentioned in passing, your stomach drops and you feel like you could puke. You’ve lost control and all of these feelings suddenly rise to the surface to say, “Sup? Have you missed us?’ You’ll hate yourself for this, for all of it. You won’t be able to recognize why this one person can still garner this type of reaction. Why is your mind punking you? It almost feels like a betrayal. You want to give your emotions a stern talking to and say, “Um, hi. I thought we were over this? So why am I getting super nervous and spazzy at…

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Cutting

As I write this, I’m doing the deed. It feels liberating, as if I’m removed from my responsibilities, even though I know they will haunt me in a while. But for this short amount of time, I am free…

Yes, I’m talking about cutting. No, I’m not talking about it literally; rather, cutting classes (why, what were you thinking of while reading the first passage huh?). When I was in grade school, I was a typical average-tinkering-on-the-model student, academics wise. Same thing with high school, but then again I had lower standards then on what “model” meant. Now, in college, I still get pretty decent grades (at least, most of the time). It’s just that… well, I wouldn’t consider myself as a full blown truant, but I break bend the rules for my convenience. Today’s one of them.

It’s not as bad-ass as it sounds, though. Actually, no, it doesn’t sound bad-ass at all. I don’t necessarily want to justify it, but then again.. I’ve heard worse.

Aftermemory

Aftermemory n.
1. a time when Carley has the right words to say
2. a present that doesn’t move too fast for her grasp
3. a dream of making things happen
4. what maybe might have been

– How to Buy a Love of Reading (Tanya Egan Gibson)

Lava

Push and pull; internal struggle
Tracing faults, no openings
Finding ways of escape
Only to end up bubbling.

A wordless lull forms –
Pressure builds up!
Without release;
without reprieve.

It’s just a matter of time
Before the inevitable volatility
Suddenly something snaps, and then breaks
Destruction in its wake

And then… everything stops.
The perished are cocooned,
Protected by an impenetrable wall;
But deceased nonetheless.

Well, this turned out to be more morbid than I intended it to be. But I hope it’s intelligible, at the very least 😀

Note: I originally wrote this stanza as the first one for the poem, but then realized its irrelevance. But just so you could have a context on why I wrote the poem in the first place…

All these suppresed feelings
Keep building up inside
Thoughts of you and me keep lingering
No matter how futile

Mistaken Identity

One of my friends promotes her ask.fm account ever so often, but especially when she’s bored and looking for entertainment (or craving human attention – but that’s me wildly guessing there). I am a self-proclaimed stalker fan of her (I mean, I did manage to get through hundreds of pages worth of her Tumblr) and so I have made it a habit to ask her random things whenever I see the link in my news feed.

Two nights ago, I visited her page and was amused by the questions recently posed. I figured that this anonymous questioner is one of our friends, because the covered topics were similar to what we were just talking about the week before (also because the writing style is obviously hers *squints*). Anon was typing in song lyrics (which was my habit by the way – ask.fm karaoke with this certain friend) and asking super random question. Some of my questions by then complement my friend’s, me sometimes continuing the lyrics from before or asking following questions. Well for the most part I did ask weird questions myself, but that’s to be expected (one of my high school batch mates has a wall filled with lewd questions and comments; I’m guessing it was from a bunch of guys from the same batch, I just can’t discern who from who – but that’s another story).

At some point that night, I was referring to the other questioner as the perverse anon because the other set of questions were getting more and more… well, perverted. I was tempted to contribute but I held back; I’m too perverse for my own good anyway, why divulge that to other people. We even had a conversation through my friend. All in all it was an amusing night.

Earlier, I was chatting with my friend (who I pegged as the perverse anon from that night) and my friend’s ask.fm account was brought up. I mentioned us having a conversation through that account and she was confused with what I was talking about. Turns out, she was sick since that night (and up until now actually) so she rested. She actually thought I was just having a conversation with myself. My initial reaction was, she must be pulling my leg [conspiratorial face on]  because as I’ve said earlier, I was really convinced that the perverse anon was my sick friend because the writing styles are too similar. But then I realize: there is no reason for my friend to lie to me. Looking back on the other set of questions, it got less and less alike my friend’s after some time. Another wave of realization hits: shit. If that’s the case then I was being chummy with a total stranger. And I’ve been inappropriate, for stranger. Or maybe not (for all I know, it could have been another friend). My only saving grace is the fact that I posted questions anonymously, so no one has to find out about it (of course, except for sick friend because I discussed it with her and she seemed highly amused and entertained by my plight).

So that’s that.

Now I worry about my gut feeling. It doesn’t work.

Lesson(s) learned: Assuming is bad and Thank God there’s the anon option. Though if my ask.fm friend chances upon this entry, I blow my cover.

July 31, 2014: UPDATE! This friend of mine recently went abroad after her graduation, and before we parted ways she revealed that she somehow “discovered” who this perverse anon was. Turns out, it was one of our elementary batchmates (well, her classmate and busmate then) who grew up pretty decently and studied in the same university she was in. By pretty decently I mean currently this guy is cute and witty. It’s just a shame that my friend is as passive as me; her inaction is frustrating, but I can’t really blame her. I wonder how their story plays out…