i have no problems with valentine's day being too ooey-gooey. i guess there's a part of me that learned to give respect to those who survived and those who are still surviving. And i admit that i am surviving. it's not really a pain coz you learn to love the fights. it tends to be boring if there's none. and you can't drown yourselves with too much of those moments coz then you'd doubt that it's too perfect..actually, you don't plan it. you don't plan anything. and that's what makes it more natural, exciting, fun, real. the beauty is that you learn everytime. you grow. and then you'd think and wonder if he's your soulmate.. do you even believe in one?

it's this simple..

watching him snooze on the loveseat, wonderin if he's still alive or is it just his kind, child-like heart pounding on his chest trying to get out..sometimes he seemed taken by something unknown that words can't even spell it out. other times he seems too caught up with something he himself don't even know what. and he wonders why he stares blankly on what is oblivious. and then he asks what does 'oblivious' means.. sometimes i wonder if i'm too much of a psycho for him to handle. he never knew bad tempers, that is, until he met me. i knew i taught him to really feel the rage and send it out flying in the fields. only to discover that what he let out came flying back like a boomerang. and it seemed to him that his good intentions backfired. he felt it unfair for the world to stereotype him as someone who never gets mad at anything. not even with users and abusers.. and i saw that weakness. with a clear vision of what ought to be, i sealed my prayers with anger-management undertones. hoping it'd train him to atleast have a tinge of anger so he could eventually let it out. and realize how sweet it is to wring-out hatred and not apologize for it..for once..

he carried himself to the leather sofa and dozed off once again. and now i wonder what he's dreaming about. if he's thinking of something that he knows will betray me, shatter my belief system. and so he keeps it to himself. like the way he used to do to fool myself with a distant smile, letting "me" think he knows nothing about what i know. only, i listen to him when he breathes. when he talks about essentialities without futile rhetoricals.