Her

I could never be her. I could only be me. I don't like how I am compelled to compare myself to her to gauge my chances of you choosing me over her. I shouldn't feel that way if I trust that you'll stay. I wish you are someone I could trust to stay. But you are not. And yet I choose to stay. What does that say about me?

I could never make you feel passionate the way she was able to make you feel. I am more the low key kind- the comforting feeling you have when lying on the couch with your head on a familiar lap. I am the ice cream you have that comforts your taste buds after a long, tiring day. I am the foot massage that kneads your arches and toes to recharge your steps for tomorrow. I am the deep hug that sends the message to your entire body that everything is going to be okay.

That is all I can offer. That is all I would want to offer. I may not get your pulse racing, your emotions high, but I am constant, quiet, reliable. I will be here as long as you want me to stay. I'll be here even if you don't care about me being here.

I'm sorry you prefer her. I'm sorry we believe differently on what is important. I wish you well. I wish me well.

Dark and Twisty

I was not born to a life of privilege. Every thing I have right now, I have to work hard for. Even for my dog whom I got for free, I had to drive whole day in awful traffic. Sometimes I resent why I don't have it easy. I envy those who can go through life carefree, unfluttered, and without worry because they've never experienced being at the bottom. These darkness-free individuals are unafraid and when they meet a setback, they don't even recognize it as such. They're even perplexed as to what it is.

My self-confidence have been trampled upon by every setback that comes in my way. My mediocre grad school experience made me question whether I should be in science. My messy relationships made me question who I am and whether this is something I want. All these questions gnaw the hope in my heart, troubling, circling around my head like vultures ready for the kill. Sometimes I wish I'm oblivious to these deep questions, shallow but happy, naïve but fearless. Because even if they say that these things make you stronger, I could never be the same person as I was before. I am broken, and even if I appear to be together, I am not as beautiful as I was before.

I am broken. These words haunt me, like I am some soldier who has seen too much. I have in my heart images I would rather forget, memories I could do without. I wish he chose me. I wish he didn't shut me out. I wish someone believed in me. I was someone was there for me.

Am I better and stronger for being broken? Because no matter how many psychology articles assert as such, I could never feel that way. I don't think there is anything more about being broken. What then is the use of being broken? I think it's only for me to recognize pain in other people so that I could empathize. That when no one was there for me, I could be there for someone who needs someone. And that maybe, even if I am broken, I can maybe become whole again, not completely, but healed. And the beauty that was taken away from me may resurrect in the form of friendship, empathy and love in identifying, caring, commisserating, empathizing and kindness. That maybe more beautiful.