Its been a year since this blogging habit started and frankly I’m getting tired of it.
Its almost as if blogging for me became synonymous to ranting.
And I’m scared of losing my writing flair as much as I’m afraid of losing touch of my friends now that there’s someone invading–ok, not invading, maybe penetrating my life again.
I don’t want to have to blog another heartache or repeat myself.
i’m so freakin’ paranoid and I definitely have trust issues that no matter how long and how excited I have been, feeling that I’m all set and ready to love (such a heavy word I used to use so fondly) I don’t think I’ll ever get over the trauma left in me.
I can’t entirely point fingers you know. And regardless of how much warning I serve or test I put on fire, nothing pacifies my restlessness.
I’m not good with change. Moreso with changes of affairs of the heart. I fall hard and I literally find myself on the ground. Beaten up and paralyzed. I take the plunge as if I’m up for a dare and I have nothing at stake when God knows how shattered and jaded I already am.
If only I can genetically manipulate the events to come I’d probably hold my breath and let it pass until everything’s the way I think it should be.
It seemed like for the past months, days have been shorter and there’s just not enough time for everyone and everything I had to do. Now i’m aimlessly waiting for my happy ending. And I know i’m not the only one freaking out but what am I suppose to do?
I’m such a wreck I think I need my hands locked in a jar until I scream my heart out and just let it all out. One blow. And everything has to resonate back to me in harmony. Damn it, I’m running out of words to describe fear and anxiety and excitement rolled in one.
Yes. I’m freaking out. I don’t think I can handle another blog-worthy relationship. If I close this chapter which I call the Quarter Life Crisis, i’m hoping to the high heavens its gonna end with a happy ending. Or else I’m gonna skip to my second childhood and fuck up.