Just a tiny reminder, that so many people loves you.
For the days where you feel so unloved, or forgotten, or worthless, impossible to love, remember this.
So many people love you, enough to put down everything to run towards you. To abandon their posts, their work, their plans, just to make sure you're okay.
You're lucky. You're loved.
Sometimes I feel like we don’t talk about death enough. I’ve been in the medical field for long enough to know that that isn’t really something you can ever be ready for, and that it’d be a good idea to leave something behind before you get suddenly robbed away from the ones you love.
I admit, I thought about death a lot more times than I should. I was never a fighter, so naturally, when things got hard in the past, one of the easier way out was death. And so, I’ve actually given a lot of thought to what I want to happen in the event that- well, if I am made to suddenly depart the mortal world.
But don’t worry, I’m much better now. Much more insight into who I am and how I want to live this life, so hopefully these thoughts about death will change directions.
But I digress.
If I were to conduct and plan my own funeral, I’d rather it be happy and light, rather than the traditional dark somber tones. Don’t mourn my passing; celebrate my life. Isn’t it better to remember one’s last moments in a lighter picture, rather than veiled in the heavy shroud of black? Grief is a given in any event of death, why amplify it? Temper it with light tunes and happy images, colour it with bright reds and yellows and oranges.
But it’s not nice to think about death too much; I do believe that every thought is magnetic, and whatever it is you think of will attract the very thing of your thoughts. So let’s not linger; I’ve made my point.
We celebrate New Years and birthdays, the birth of a new year; but at the same time we celebrate the passage of the old year, of times lost. What’s the difference eh?
I found my person. Finally.
And he’s the Best Thing Ever.
Even better than mint chocolate chip ice cream.
It was wet.
It was heartbreaking.
It's probably terribly cliched of me to say I can't think of my first kiss without feeling the shadow of that heartbreak, if not the excruciating pain of heartache.
My first kiss was wet, because I couldn't stop crying. It was something that was doomed from the start, and me trying so hard, flailing to keep whatever I could. I was...not chosen, yet again, yet all I could feel was my heart rending into two when I still turned my head, when I still leaned in.
People might call me crazy. Stupid. Naive.
I am, all of the above.
But I was also hurting, curious, and absolutely devastated. Fully aware of what I was walking into, but torn, nonetheless.
So, yeah. When people talk about first kisses being sad and painful, it's usually becuase they didn't pan out to be anything. My first kiss was sad and painful, because I was already told nothing will pan out from it.
But we deserve the love that we accept, and the non-love that we accept too.
I still don’t regret any of it. If anything, it taught me everything that love can be and shouldn’t be. I never thought I would be strong enough nor mature enough to handle this with grace, not had I thought myself capable of love in such a setting. For if I could love someone in this way, despite being torn and hurt and battered by the waves of back and forth; surely, someday, someone would be capable of loving me the same.
Was watching a few rom coms these past days, aimed at various ages.
But damn, different age groups have such different experience in dating. And, me, pushing thirties, still find some of the younger boys cuter than should be. Absolutely adore it when they rub the back of their necks when they're awkward or shy---damn thing makes something in me flutter like old ladies' plastic bags.
And yet, these are the little things that you see only in younger age groups. Even the movies reflect real life.
I suppose older men tend to lose these little quirks as they grow in confidence and experience. And at my age, most men are already more men than boys.
But damn, wouldn't it be nice to experience the awkward straightforward passion-driven stupid courage boys have when they're feeling strongly about something, someone? Instead of the baggage-loaded, hesitant, jaded, heavily-debated guarded men of my age?
But then again, I've always been attracted to cute boyish specimens; and then lament the almost inevitable relative immaturity.
Life's hard.
I just wish I had the experience. The awkward flex. The shy glances. The super-cliched things in teen romcoms. All those things I missed.
Instead of all these things I miss.
