belia's space

I had sworn to myself that I was content with loneliness. But as it turns out, the deepest part of me was so desperate for a companion that it made me realize that being lonely was not what consumed me. It was the feeling of not wanting anyone to figure out that I was still not capable of accepting myself the way I had to be that swallowed me up.

As much as I want the world to end, I equally want to be accepted for my own stupidity without having it made fun of when I wasn't even aware of it. To have a friend who values every decision you make, who finds your story enlightening even without pretending to, who tells you a secret even when you realize it’s no longer one, who knows when to cry with you and make fun of yourselves together, and who knows you’re there without making you feel like you have to make a voice just to be heard.

I once daydreamed about the possibilities waiting for me at the end of my thought. But as it turns out, none of it matters unless you know how to take a look at what’s running inside your head. Even when you realize things are going the other way around, everything will eventually run back at you. Nah, I don’t even know why I wrote this in the first place. It’s just that, in this endless space between you and the gravity that pulls you down, you have no one but yourself. And I just want you to understand it sooner.

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