My lips tremble to the glory at my electrifying stare. I never seemed to catch my breath from her visible and invisible presence. Serious ruminations about my affection to her, I shall tell you like I never even told myself.

            It, first, was an infatuation--who wouldn't pause for a moment just to look at her? She has that glow on her skin (that you will notice first,) that may result to envy for any women, and sometimes, even at men. Her lips are half-full, beautiful even if pale; at times, pink, caused by her volatile lip biting. Her tantalizing eyes capture anyone who sees her. Capture in a beautiful way. Like a camera with great specification, that stores pretty pictures. Whenever she blinks, it is like it clicks. Her sleek straight, ebony black, long hair captivates anyone's attention. How many times does she brush them? How many liters of shampoo and conditioner does she apply to it?

            Then it turned into love. She laughs like the "hee-haw" of the donkey, the way she snorts aloud while she closes her eyes. Her giggles are irresistible, too. I find her delightful, even if my ears are disturbed; because seeing her happy is my very own strength, purpose and happiness. Strength to withdraw myself in the reality that she is taken and the fear that I may loss her someday. Purpose to redeem myself in amidst all hopelessness...And happiness. I don't even know if I am happy because I don't know if she is happy.
            Although, it is not acceptable to depend my happiness completely into someone else's, for me, she matters for I choose her. I found myself sacrificing my time and energy to her. I devoted some of my time to talk to her, I tried to make her laugh, I managed to try new things just for her, and I did what I could. 

            Thinking about what I've said, I wonder is she'd choose me, instead of the man who proclaims his love at her but harasses her in every way. He forces her to do things even if she is against it. He thinks that he has all the right and control over their relationship because he IS the boyfriend. He doesn't even know how lucky he is, having a girl whose worth is more than the raining diamonds in Jupiter. Instead, he treats her like a rock. She is aware that she's hurt but chooses to stay, hoping that one day he will treat her way she deserves.
            I feel that way on her, too. I am hurt that she is hurt, and stay completely in love with her. Sometimes, I look up into the night sky and sincerely wish that she would have the strength to choose what (or who) is best for her.

            I know that you think I am crazy, but let's make an analogy. Maybe I am in love with my best friend, and she might be of another's. Foolish of my thoughts about being hers one day because I am in love with her; perhaps, love is crazy. I must be crazy after all. If that is so, I'd rather be crazy for her than to someone else.

Victor Victor Reviewed by Michelle Tan on 12:36 PM Rating: 5

No comments:

Tell me what you think about this post

Rom�rio Bispo

Image Link [ ] Author Name [© Tami] Author Description [Magazine Blogger. Your weekly dose from the slice of life: School, Love, and God; and a little bit of fashion.] Twitter Username [themtan] Facebook Username [lastingonmymind] GPlus Username [tamiyummy101] Pinterest Username [tamiyummy101] Instagram Username [themtan]