i don’t wanna be the one who tells people to leave the ones they love.
so i don’t really like answering love/relationship/dating questions/issues/curiousities.
i especially don’t like talking about it like it’s a worthwhile conversation among the people i know.
even if i ask, it would only be because i wanted to know how my friend was doing, or why things turn out the way they did for my friend(s).
i don’t fix love. or relationships. or whatever.
that’s not my job.
so when i get those texts i really don’t feel like saying anything.
but i can’t just not say anything because after several years of no such texting, it looks like a cry for help to me.
but it turns out that it wasn’t.
felt like it’s a waste of my time.
my classes are over but
i have things i have to do and think about each day.
especially when my parents aren’t around like today.
i have meals to prepare, 2kids and 1 adult to babysit, and a kitchen to clean.
i spent the afternoon cooking
preparing their (very late) lunch
dark soya sauce chicken
and then figuring out how to get my youngest brother to take a bath and change.
i even gave them some of our old photos frm my pc and edited a few to distract them from going out to play earlier than necessary (because mum and dad’s not around).
i wait in their room until they’re done bathing or washing or whatever because they need people around here to feel safe from what they imagined as ghosts in this house.
i don’t like spending my time on such pointless conversations.
at least not for now.
what is it like to only live for yourself?
because i thought i was a perfect example of that, until i realized that a huge chunk of my time was always given away and somehow slowly i felt like i don’t really mind. even when i knew that i had always been selfish.
because sometimes it’s not that bad to do something other than for your own self.
so when i received the relatively similar text after all these years i knew that my answers would probably be the same :
“if it doesn’t work for you, then don’t work for it”.
i don’t know if there is any possible way of fixing love.
heck, how would i know, i’ve never been in one before.
so why me?
why ask me?
i can’t possibly know the right answer to that, right?
i mean, think about it.
why is it always after a couple of years has passed (somewhere in the 3rd year), things get less pretty and more intolerable?
why ask me when deep inside i think you know the answer yourself.
i can’t be there for everyone.
i have to prioritize.
and i do that by putting my youngest brother first; my youngest baby-ish brother who needs people to wait on him while he uses the bathroom, cook for him when he’s asking for food and answer his questions when he gets all quizzly and curious, before an old acquaintance who needs people to talk about love when it’s already clear.
don’t we all have something we have to work for?
like money. education. or family. or our fates in the afterlife.
we want to feel fulfilled by fulfilling these duties and responsibilities.
so why not try it and see if you can feel somewhat more fulfilled and less empty and perhaps more comfortable in your own skin.
it would be nothing short of amazing if you could love yourself not less than you love someone, or anyone out there.