Nausea

I disgust myself far too much.

It makes my stomach turn whenever I picture how I look or imagine how I behave. I regret every move I make, not because they’re necessarily wrong, but because they were done by me.

I feel like everyone is just tolerating me.

I just asked my brother if he’s comfortable hanging out with me. He said, 'Yes' but I still can’t believe it. He asked, 'Why would you ask this?' I simply can’t understand why someone would want to be around me. I can hardly tolerate myself.

People claim to enjoy my company, I've been fortunate enough to have people saying they romantically love me. 

But do they really? 

Are they so blinded by one part of me that they can’t see my flaws?

Do they even know what love is? Do I?

If there’s anything I know about love —at least in my mind— it’s that

Love is not an action. 

***

"It's easier to make love to a stranger than to ask a friend to call"

***

Senseless acts can’t build love. An act is only meaningful through love. You can kiss or sleep with someone, even a stranger, but it will never be as meaningful as a laugh shared with someone you truly love.

It’s torture. A kiss shared with someone who means nothing to you is pure torture. Their hand on your skin feels like a pollutant, corroding your softness.

That’s why I could never marry someone I don’t love. It upsets me how many people marry others they don’t even care about; it’s horrifying.

To those who sit and think about this sort of thing, like me, it goes beyond instinctual desire. Like I mentioned in a previous entry, everyone desires. But the hard part is finding true emotional fulfillment,

something I’ve personally never experienced. Almost everything I say are just assumptions.

***

Would I die in disappointment if I never find that sort of love?
No.

Because I don’t search for it. I just sit and think about it, no action.

So if I never find it, it’s basically my own fault. :D

Anyway, to wrap up this yapping session, I'll attach some scenes from "Before Sunrise"; the perfect movie for hopeless romantics like me.