Love has always been a vital part in my life ever since I was cursed by romance films. I tried to hide under multiple facades to shield myself from the certainty of heartbreak and loss but honestly, it never worked. Metaphors after metaphors of glass, roads, ink or whatever cliche you can come up with, I have done that to comprehend and express my plentiful emotions and today, I told a friend of mine this, "I'm at a crossroad and I have no sense of direction to reach where I am supposed to. I am lost." 

Lately, the mini-me in my head is running a marathon trying to grasp the reality of life and love altogether or either one. However, a mere reminder of when they coexist, they coexist with an explosion -- excitement and adrenaline that are addicting. A high from a high in which eventually, you have to sober up and deal with what is in front of you and as soon as you get too sober and alarmed, you start to crave for that explosion that may not happen again. I mean, you know what happens when you wait by the phone that you know won't ring.

The truth is I am unbelievably and undoubtedly frightened of the present and future. I don't know where I am going or where I am supposed to or where I want to go. I am starting to believe that I am incapable of being in a relationship; whatever sacrifices that I did or would do won't be enough to let it stick (I guess). I doubt that I would be enough in general and that is the toxic certainty that all of us have for ourselves. 

With twenty-three being 2 months away from knocking on my door and I am still a mess packed in a 5"2 vessel, it's overwhelming. But that does not mean I did not try or will stop trying -- I got to keep on keeping on or else whatever I did or am doing won't mean shit one day. So, there's that.