LOVE ME FOR I AM NOT FOR REAL

If I knew better, I would say this is how love is suppose to be; nothing less than a bed of roses with the best scent that springs joy from within my…so called self. Gentle, honest, down to earth and loving are the best words to describe his character. Every time I call his name, he stops everything and gives me his undivided attention. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve him. I invited him to sail with me merely because there was no way on earth I could cross the bridge alone. My pals think he is living under a spell of some sort, while the truth lies within “hypnotic acts of motives”.  He succumbed to my charisma towards him, making it easy for me to endure my motives in conviction without an apercu of vagueness.  I gave him all the possible hints and got him so hypnotized that he could not resist me.

I appeared to him on a skin of a saint potently and led him to see me the way I knew he longed for and simultaneously fulfilled his fantasy. Apparently I am the women in his fantasies, a woman who has put herself aside and fix her gaze in pleasing the perfect man in her life. I do everything right, pay attention to detail, so far there is no wrong he has spotted about me. Perfect is how he describes me in his secret places.

I led him to believe in serendipity, enduring the sentiment of guilt mingling with the pain that I internalized; the pain of knowing that he loves someone else. When I look into the roots of what seem to have born a blithe and an enchanting relationship, I see where I went wrong. From the very first day I met him, I gave him away, and I gave him away to someone that was not by an inch close to being me. I was convicted by anomie, desperate to find out how it feels to be in this side of the world and I merely needed a companion to sail with me. Thus I had no other option but to become what he would fall for than being myself. Out of desperation I became someone I am certainly not, knowing not that my heart would cry out for him so loud. I’ve let the disappointments of the past haunt and concealed me into a shell that I’ve been in for the past three months.

I’ve been sweltering from within… until today that I cannot hold it in anymore. I am tired of being charlatan, and I am drained from being someone else in the name of love. I rather go back to the side of the world where I came from; a lonely world that is as silent as a grave yard, a less pleasant abode with brumal weather on sunny days and extremely cold weather during winter seasons. I think going through that being myself might feel better than living everyday knowing that he loves me for I am not for real.

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