pahinangpahinga

[pahinangpahinga]

today, you told me i looked pretty.

lately, everything's been cloudy—the weather, my emotions, my mind—every single damn thing has been a grey haze. i've been sleeping more, eating less, sighing more, smiling less.

but, when you told me i looked pretty as soon as i you saw me come in, despite the sweat across my brow, the disheveled hair from the wind, the pale of my lips from being dehydrated, the shortness of my breath because the walk back to our door felt more like a climb,

i realized that the sun may be covered by clouds from time to time, but it will always look for a way to break through and shine on me.

[pahinangpahinga]

a day in our lives (truly hopefully)

i hope, in one of the universes, there's a version of us where you drive me to work before you head to yours. i work for women's rights or climate advocacy—whichever discipline i finally decide to take, and you work in a site, filled with hard hats and neon vests. our drink compartments tucking in our flasks filled with coffee i made—cold for yours, hot for mine.

for lunch, we eat the food we prepared the night before.

i work late, as i do most days, because that's just how it is at the field. but it's alright.

because i know i'll be coming home to you. and our cats (or dogs) ((i hope we got cats))

and we won't care if we have microwaved leftovers for dinner because we'd talk about our day in full, vivid color—the food would get cold again before we even finish our own recaps.

[pahinangpahinga]

i'm sorry i don't believe you

how could people trust other people? how could people get into relationships? how could they offer their whole life to one person? just like that. no hesitations, no excuses.

whenever i went back into dating, i always got filled with guilt for not trusting them enough (i should, right?) and with anxiety for always thinking about being left alone after i open up to them (i shouldn't, right?).

i consistently found myself looking for reassurance that they were there, that they were staying, that they liked me. because, if not for those affirmations, then it couldn't be real, right? (the rancid thought that no one could ever tolerate this ran in my head 24/7)

maybe it was my shitty attention span—no thanks to my endless doomscrolling on this app. maybe i was just too easily distracted to hold onto a relationship. maybe i just wasn't made for dating. maybe i was meant to be alone all my life. besides, i can only trust myself, right? (spoiler: i also don't most of the time)

i've almost lost hope—until i learned about attachment styles. and that what i was feeling was normal to some people, as well. i have the anxious preoccupied attachment style, which explains a lot of what i'm feeling.

well, okay, i kinda lost my track of thought for a minute there. but i guess, this is just a love letter to those who are the same way as i am. we are fine, we are normal. we just need to work on it, much like any other people.

[pahinangpahinga]

i never knew...

i grew up in a loud household. everyday was in capital letters. achievements in fanfare. turmoil quelled in bold words. that's how i thought love was supposed to be given. so i took it the way i was always shown. i received love that came in extravagance. in grand gestures. in loud booming voices that made my head pound.

and it made me wonder, does love embrace you with the same grip that anxiety has?

i kept taking and taking. and i kept feeling nothing but empty. was love really supposed to be like this?

until something else crept up one day. it came in soft hushes. in light nudges. in soothing glances. i didn't give it the time of day at first, because wasn't love supposed to be flaunted? but subtle as it may be, it was also steady.

it was then that i realized that love for me wasn't supposed to take form in words that kept bouncing inside one's brain. not in fluctuations. not in rollercoasters. love could also be quiet. serene. delicate.

i never knew it was gentle love i needed until the still of it all made me hear my own heartbeat.

[pahinangpahinga]

i haven't written anything in a year

of course, i did not mean that literally. i continued typing words, combining letters, punctuating them. but none of them bore life. none of them held meaning more than what they were supposed to.

they say you have more to write as you grow older. i did not know that as i worked harder to live, the thing that gave me life withered away. it started with a thought ignored, an itch unscratched and left to die within synapses rather than bled onto the loving surface of parchment. a hundred excuses that tomorrow will be the day i finally pick up that pen.

it was all that until i find myself staring into the blink blink blinking cursor. each beat for every distraction i used to do anything else but.

so here's to me hoping nothing's too little too late.