Never really understood having to love yourself before you can love other people. Or finding yourself before getting lost in someone else. I think a person who has difficulty finding self-worth is completely capable of loving.
I hate blogging about love and I hate the existence of the word itself sometimes. But it doesn't mean I don't feel it. When you're alone, it feels like the world has gone darker and you don't know if your heart is even worth every beat.
Imagine feeling like you're worth nothing, constant headaches and the desire to slit your wrist or slice your head open. And then imagine having somebody who changes all that when they're with you. No, when you're with them.
Imagine someone whose smile lights up the whole fucking world that you think somehow got dim over the years. Someone whose face you can't help kissing all over because they're so fluffy... Someone who pulls all your pieces together when you wrap your arms around them.
Imagine a job where the people love you more than your friends from high school. You love their snide remarks, their bounce, their ridiculous dances that make you feel more at home than the house you've grown up in for years.
Imagine your whole world crashing back down again the moment that somebody boards his bus; the moment you punch out of work and say goodbye. Maybe I don't know self-worth, or the need to nurture myself first. But I know love... it's when their existence is the only source of light in your life.
When she slid out of me 2 years ago, the light that represented my self-worth blew out. I'd had a purpose sheltering a second life, and it was all gone in 2 days, slowly seeping out of me. And it would definitely take me more than two years to fix that bulb, but who said it was gonna be easy? And why lie about me never going to be alone again?
A few days ago, the second light, the biggest light of all, blew out. I thought wrong about a lot of things, one of them being that you would always stay. Whenever you said what the fuck do you want me to do, I wish you'd known that all you had to do was stay. But even my own father didn't want me once; what right did I have to think you always would?
My heart isn't capable of self-worth but it knows love. And however tiny it is, there's a piece of it in heaven, a piece at a quiet mall at Paya Lebar, and a piece with a boy who crosses the border everyday. And I hope to god that the light hovering over Paya Lebar doesn't go out, or it would be dark, dark, dark.
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