Private Emotions

I dont understand why some people are hell bent on not allowing certain people to go on their own. It's either I'm being raised differently, or being alone is ALWAYS dangerous.

I think I'm one of those people who can't stand mingling in the society for too long. Kinda like a normal human being unable to stand isolation. Its a total meltdown of what the local interpretation of 'normal' behavior. A need to dwell in the silence, and be afraid of the dark alone.

When I'm alone I tend to listen to myself since not many people listens to what I've got to say. I'd talk to myself out of habit, playing the devil's advocate about things that has been happening around me, or the things that might happen soon enough.

Lately, the debate with myself has been evolving around what I liked best about growing up. It definitely has to be the part where I could admit that I am wrong sometimes.

I am always wrong about people. Though defining what's right and what's wrong still failed to change my attitude towards someone or something (read= I'm still stubborn). This girl I've been loathing so much has got to be one of the people who keeps on cultivating bigotry (against her) in me every single day and managed to get away with it. She is also one of the most ungrateful person around, and immature is such an understatement. However I find that lots of (lesser) men fell for her and I tried my very best to see what they could've seen in her. It's hard to keep my perspective wide for that length of period, but I can see that amidst all her gruesome lack of manner, she is constantly happy, and she knew how to make people feel like home.

I could have been one of the very little people who came into her life and be able to govern her around most of the times. But through that I hope I could instill something into her young mind.

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One day I tried to look at this world like how a man probably does. My particular subject that day: Women.

As I walk around, I could see that all girls are pretty in their own way. Some are loatheful at first glance, but mostly its because of their behavior or their ineptitude.

But I don't wanna dwell on their complex behavior. I want to try to see what makes a man say to his woman that she is beautiful.

A woman, dressed plainly in her blouse and pair of washed out jeans. She didn't even try, but she looked good already. Her shoulder length hair kisses her back now and again as she stoop to check the prices on the groceries. I walk past her, and there was a pretty scent, not too sharp, not too faint. Just right.

The way her hair falls on her fair skin. The way she moved her lips a little when she is thinking. The way her eyes glance over dreamily, that particular angle she tilt her head to. And she smiled! Its exciting to see how her mouth pucker up that way.

She walked daintily across one aisle after another. Deep in her thinking, she barely talks, but when she opened her mouth, her voice is rather pleasing.

I wonder if I'm right.

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There's someone out there who loves me so much. And this love I felt deeply affected to, because it means so much when someone actually DO care.

I miss the way he looked at me, and the way his warm hands wrapped around mine securely and without words he said out loud that I'm in good hands.

He's so far away I could barely remember. He gave me his hand but I could barely reach it. This distance somehow kills me bit by bit inside. Did he feel the same way behind those contented eyes? He should know that I'm barely keeping myself from keeling over from this pain of missing him.