His lips slowly touch my ears, and he says “I love you.” I turn away from him, giving him a pointed look. It was in a way a PDA (public display of affection), and I hated PDA. And he knew it too. I scowl at him, and walk away from him. As predicted he runs after me, and once again anger seeps into my body when he grabs my hand. I ignore the butterflies in my stomach and I squat his hand away. His face shows a hint of sadness, but he walks behind me anyway.
A moment later I lace my fingers with his, and he smiles at me. I know he’s confused, but so am I. We walk together hand-in-hand, doing a HHWW (holding hands while walking), when I suddenly jerk my hand away from him. He whimpers, yes whimpers like a puppy, but doesn’t say anything. Next thing I know I pull him into a hug, and he smiles widely, almost creepily. I ignore him for the next few minutes, and he tries to get my attention. I notice him, then I push away again. Trust me, this is how I normally am. Confusing? Yes. But before you start throwing rocks at me for being cruel to him, hear me out.
Let me start from the beginning. I was and is currently a hopeless romantic. From the ripe age of four, Disney has filled my mind with thoughts of a prince on a white horse. I had my first crush when I was five, and until now I know his name. I loved pictures of married couples, and I even kept a picture of my parent’s wedding in a “treasure box”. I grew up seeing my parents in love, and I always wanted something like that. I had a few crushes along the way to high school (like 10 maybe?), and I made my first love story at 11. I loved to day dream of being swept off my feet, by some handsome rich guy. I even made a whole checklist about what I wanted in a guy. Disney does that to kids. So I bet you’re wondering how that girl became this bitter almost-lady?
If some of you have read about my post on bullies, they were one of the factors. A lot of people ridiculed my thoughts of love, but it wasn’t the reason I despise it. When I reached high school, I began to read more mature novels, and in plain language I was exposed to the heartbreaks of love. Seeing my friends fall in and out of love, I began to doubt it. But a part of me still believed in love. Little did I know that small spark of optimism in me though I was faced with reality shaped my personality of being a realist optimist. And when I felt my first heartbreak, I was a bit dramatic. I forced, yes, forced, myself to cry, listened to sad songs and I wrote. After a few minutes I felt pathetic, and I mentally promised myself to try to not be that pathetic again. That’s when I kind of numbed my heart from love, yet still believing that it existed. A complete paradox, but hey, life isn’t a straight line.
And so you could imagine a sappy romantic who cried over sad novels, who wears her heart on her sleeve, be so negative when it came to love. A few years more I experienced more heartbreaks, a lot of them self-inflicted, but I didn’t cry over them that much. That was until I fell in love with someone. Someone who I’d frantically catch before hitting the ground, after pushing him off the balcony.
Love really is crazy. Just when I felt genuinely crazy with this guy, my realist side knows not to get too attached. I know the way my eyes dilate when I see him, the way I can’t help but smile when he looks at me, the way everything feels right, it just scares me. I easily cry over stupid arguments, but I quickly recover, putting on a numb facade. Then it quickly melts when I hear his voice over the phone crying, or something bad happens to him. Even when I’m monumentally angry, it quickly disappears when I feel that he needs me. It’s frustratingly sweet, the way that no matter how I tell him to get lost, he bounces his way towards me, his heart bare, a yellow rose in hand, and a sorry smile on his face. It’s a crazy love-hate relationship, the hate mostly coming from me.
But I guess that’s love you know? Even when that person is on your number one hit list, you’d still drop everything to be by their side when they need you. And you know that they would do the same with you. ♥
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to get more imagination on what I do to the poor boy, here’s the exaggerated version.
p.s., i love adam levine. 😀