I Miss You

Movies ridicule me with insane taglines like this, “I miss you so much that it would hurt”. Or those love stories with themes centred in leaving, separation, goodbyes, letting go and hurting. They’re like children wanting candy so badly, crying themselves to sleep with the “hurt” they “feel”, as if it’s the only thing they can do! Well I say, “Immature imbeciles”.

And what’s the deal with stupid love songs, don’t get me started on those, one blog isn’t enough. How they sing their feelings of longings, loneliness, wishes, regrets, memories, and love. They sounded odd for me and humoured me with their oddity.

“Lunatics”, I say.

I never believed in love and the idiocy it causes to people, to me.
I was a critic then of this “insanity” (as I see), until love whacked me on the face, whacked me hard.

Then, my perspective changed.

Those “ridiculous” things that I criticized before, (I hated them for being so soft!) I thought they were just exasperations, exaggerations.

Getting myself situated in the cosmos of love, I feel like those artistic expressions of love and misery (such as my blog) aren’t perfect parallel translations of how I really feel. All these seemed to be insufficient forms to define my bursting emotions inside.

I miss you, I’m going to miss you more, and I can’t do anything about it.

I sounded soft, and it feels good.

I’m not pathetic, naive, or a hypocrite, I’m just in love, so in love, that’s all. And I'm not stopping.