You know how people are always looking for a lot of love.

Found it. Keep it. Break it. Lost it. Found another one. Keep that one, hold on to it. Shit happens, and you lost it. Back to square one.
Yeah, so it’s the game we play. Let’s find another one. It’s quite fun actually. Keep it, really really try your best to keep it, appreciate it. Happy for it, and all of the sudden you just can’t explain, you didn’t realize that you have already lost it? You getting bore by it. You want changes. So you let go of it.
Then, you are back alone.
Hey, you found another one! This one is different. Intrigues you, teasing you, yeah you have to have it. You hunt for it, you got it. Trophy it. Keep it. And then there’s another hunter stole it from you. It left you for the better ones.
You feel like a loser. You feel small. You feel like shit.
Crazily craving for it, still not getting it. So you get to this point where you think, “Yeah, I can live like this. I can live without love, no biggies.” — out of the blue, dang! It fell into your lap. Thankful for it. Keep it, really keep it. Hold on to it, no matter what, you fight for it. You know, this is it. This is the one. Then it’s gone. Poof! You hit the ground because of losing grip. You don’t want to stand up. You stay low for a while, enjoying all the misery you can feel. Then you finally had that strength to get up and face the world again and say, “Fuck it.”
I don’t need it. Screw it.
Then, you continued. Living while avoiding. You tell people you don’t give shit about love, while the truth is, you’re afraid to let love in. Yeah, you know, because once you open your heart, you let an outsider gets in and mess you up inside you chest. You let another person taking control over your feeling. That’s what love does, right? Where are you then, who would you be, why do you need someone to make you go crazy?
Why do you really need it badly? Why do you desperately want to believe in love?
And you keep saying this to yourself, “I don’t need anyone to make me happy, but myself. Only myself. Just myself.” — and yeah, you’re happy! Good for you son.
Then you have this sleepless nights screwing around and making fool out of yourself. Going out when the sun’s down, hanging around in the same spots with the same people who share the same thinking, seek for substances to make you lose control so you can do things without bearing the stupid responsibility of them. Wake up with naked hot strangers in different places, went back home in silence to shower, have some coffee and go out again in the sun, convincing yourself, “Yeah, I’m fucking happy.”

“I’m happy. Life’s good. I’m cool on my own.”
You live out the day by consuming cigarettes, stash and coffee — hoping you can repeat the night you had before, this night. All over again. Every day, every night, every time you need to be sure that you’re happy enough. You’re 27, hey good! You still have like more than 30 years to do so until you pass out. There are billions of lonely pussies out there, let’s explore this lovely lovely world, shall we?

Then you met an old friend. Look at her, she’s lost and sad. What’s with that frown, sister? Let’s have some fun. So you want her to be happy. Like you.
You can’t stop yourself, trying to make her happy. You fuck her until she stops crying. You let her call you by someone else’s name. You don’t want to leave her. Why?
You accompany her in each night, just to make sure that she’s not crying herself to sleep like the way she does every time she sleeps alone. You laugh at her jokes. You’re living her life. You make her bed. You wait for her to come home every day. You want to spend your nights and days with her. Why? Why do you let yourself dragged into her?
She talks in her sleep, and you like listening to it. She has a big belly (that you like to smooch) and a funny round nose (that you like to bite). Her hair is a mess sometimes because she never brush it. She doesn’t put much make up and dress like a bro, yet you still miss her figure all the time. She cuddles like a little kid. She put her arms around you like a woman, not like some girl.
She overwhelms you. You’re too scare of losing her, but you know deep down inside, you tend to lost it. You’re so scare of that day to come, you can’t stand of being scared. You can’t stand it. It’s like a time bomb waiting to explode. This is too perfect, this is too perfect…

Tick tock.
Tick tock.

Tick…

Tock.
You fucked up. You lost control. And yep, again, you killed what you have grown. After surviving yourself from your casual suicidal syndrome of regret, you come back to her, to say how sorry you are, that you’re an asshole and she’s too good and this is painful, so let’s just make it quick, wave goodbye.
And guess. She didn’t wave back. She said, “Friend forgives.”
She’s a friend. By all means. She was never your lover.
And you asked, “Don’t you get hurt?”
And she said, “I get hurt all the time. You’re nothing new.”
And you asked, “Don’t I just disappoint you?”
She said, “Life disappoints me all the time. I told you, you’re nothing new.”
You asked, “Do you want me to stay?”
She said, “Yes. Don’t leave me.
You can hurt me and disappoint me for as you like. But stay with me. I don’t want to lose you.”

And you said, “Are you stupid? You deserve some guy better than me.”
And she said, “I deserve love.”
“Well can you love someone better than me?”
“I don’t think so.
Do you want me to stay away from you? Because if that’s make you happy, I’m gonna do that.”

“NO. Actually, no, that would kill me.”
“Then, what makes you happy?”

“You. And what makes you happy?”
“You.”

“Then I guess we just have to stick around for a while.”


Then you discover the paradox. You’ve seen and been with a lot of girls, some you loved some you didn’t, but there’s nothing more you want — than to have your mornings waking up beside a true partner.
(yes with all her talks in her sleep, with her big belly and funny round nose, with her jokes that never cease to make you laugh)

You’re 27. You might always hurt and being hurt, but you are never happy like this before.