One Sided Bittersweet Gravity
I can’t stop thinking about him.He’s always there – always running around my mind, starring in different daydream sequence I make every minute, making me feel giddy, happy and weird.
I can’t help it. Every little thing reminds me of him, even Katy Perry’s songs. I was trying to study but I couldn’t because all I thought about was him. My attention is unequally divided because of him. He’s basically an absolute distraction for an absolutely distracted me. I don’t
understand this feeling anymore. It wasn’t this bad before. I wasn’t yearning this much for him. Everything is all over the place. I have no idea what led me to this foolishness or what pushed/triggered me to miss him like I had never missed him before. It feels so good and yet so bad.
I miss him more than ever. I want to see him every day, to see his warm smile, friendly eyes and unfaltering sociable aura. I have these immoral desires to feel his warmth, his skin, his presence. I want to hug him and hold his hands. I want to stand beside him, to buy books with him, to sit and laugh next to him, to be normal around him. What sucks is that I know these things will never happen because they just
can’t. And what’s stupid is that, even though I know it’s all hopeless and heartbreaking, I
never stop wishing and waiting.
Waiting – the most ludicrous thing ever. I’m fully aware that I’m waiting for nothing, but heck, I will wait.
To put things straight, I know I’m not in love with him yet. But I’m not sure. I had never felt this way towards someone who isn’t named Sam Concepcion. From the first day I saw him, to the last day I met him, until the day I don’t see him anymore, the feeling is always there – lingering, dancing around, madly uncontrolled, making my life crazy and my heartbeat irregular. And the worse thing is that I
like it: I find it as one of the best feelings ever. He inspires me even though I don’t actually see him. I’m infatuated with someone who probably doesn’t even remember me, who probably only knows me as a bookish-blogger-Facebook friend.
I’m not sure if I’m already in love with him, but what I’m sure about is that I like him a lot.
Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long. No matter what I say or do, I’ll still feel you here ‘til the moment I’m gone. You hold me without touch. You keep me without chains. I never wanted anything so much, than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.
Set me free, leave me be. I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity. Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I’m supposed to be. But you’re on to me and all over me.
© Gravity, Sarah Bareilles
I want to tell this all to him and let him know that I’m almost-obsessed with him and make him be aware of his two-year-long admirer. I want to let him know how much I appreciate him and his quirks and epic fail antics. I want him to know how much his determination, perseverance and damn brains knock the ragged breath out of me. I want to tell him how much he inspires me to go to school every day even though he isn’t my schoolmate. I want to scream into his face how much he means to me, how his virtual emoticons make me go jelly all over, how his Facebook beeps send electricity to my veins that leads me to writing revoltingly cheesy lines like what I’m doing right now. But beneath all these “I wants”, all I really yearn for is to see him in all his wonderful physicality.
When I was in high school, I can show and tell a guy that I liked him. But with him, the case is different. Outright avowal needs thorough calculations and educated guesses. I came up with the deduction that maybe I find it hard to tell him how I feel because: 1) we’re not super friends; 2) I’m not worthy of him; 3) I can’t even imagine myself dating him because 4) he’s too good, smart and perfect for me, which really
sucks; and 5) I can’t properly enunciate comprehensible words to him (even a “Hi” is a pain) because 6) I freak out and run away when I see him, which is basically not
cool. My past victims were plainly inferior to me when it comes to attentiveness and grade-consciousness; I regarded myself as someone better than them (which was utterly immoral), so I guess it was easier to be vocal about some feelings issues. But then he came, and I feel so inferior next to him that I might as well kill myself or stay in a dark corner and still kill myself. He’s standing in the upper part of the Awesome People List, while I was there, so
down there I’m eaten by the shadows. I feel so small compared to him. He’s so much more accomplished, smart, friendly and focused. I’m basically, seriously and painfully
not worthy of someone like him. We’re figuratively unequal.
And when I think about it – the declaration of my fascination for him – if it ever happens, it would
scare the heck out of me. I don’t know what I’d do the moment he learns about it. I hate awkward walls and all that consciousness because they’re all shits. It would
break me if he learns about it and decides to stay away from me. Oh, please,
more pain now, eh? I’m
dead if he comes up with the conclusion that I’m a creepy stalker and shouldn’t be considered a friend. But I still want for him to know about it. I don’t know in what way, but it should be given a voice, maybe because I believe it would lessen the burden of yearning and would help me properly sort out what I really feel for him. I know it wouldn’t wane everything, but at least I know where I should stand, what I should expect and when to stop waiting and hoping.
I miss him a lot, even if he doesn’t miss me back. I like him a lot, even if he doesn’t like me back. I would just wait for that moment when I’m really sure what I feel, and for that day when we meet again and hope I won’t freak out.
Let’s not make awkward walls, GEMV, okay? (I’m sorry if I wrote about him again. I just needed to release this confusion.)
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
One Sided Bittersweet Gravity
I can’t stop thinking about him.He’s always there – always running around my mind, starring in different daydream sequence I make every minute, making me feel giddy, happy and weird.
I can’t help it. Every little thing reminds me of him, even Katy Perry’s songs. I was trying to study but I couldn’t because all I thought about was him. My attention is unequally divided because of him. He’s basically an absolute distraction for an absolutely distracted me. I don’t
understand this feeling anymore. It wasn’t this bad before. I wasn’t yearning this much for him. Everything is all over the place. I have no idea what led me to this foolishness or what pushed/triggered me to miss him like I had never missed him before. It feels so good and yet so bad.
I miss him more than ever. I want to see him every day, to see his warm smile, friendly eyes and unfaltering sociable aura. I have these immoral desires to feel his warmth, his skin, his presence. I want to hug him and hold his hands. I want to stand beside him, to buy books with him, to sit and laugh next to him, to be normal around him. What sucks is that I know these things will never happen because they just
can’t. And what’s stupid is that, even though I know it’s all hopeless and heartbreaking, I
never stop wishing and waiting.
Waiting – the most ludicrous thing ever. I’m fully aware that I’m waiting for nothing, but heck, I will wait.
To put things straight, I know I’m not in love with him yet. But I’m not sure. I had never felt this way towards someone who isn’t named Sam Concepcion. From the first day I saw him, to the last day I met him, until the day I don’t see him anymore, the feeling is always there – lingering, dancing around, madly uncontrolled, making my life crazy and my heartbeat irregular. And the worse thing is that I
like it: I find it as one of the best feelings ever. He inspires me even though I don’t actually see him. I’m infatuated with someone who probably doesn’t even remember me, who probably only knows me as a bookish-blogger-Facebook friend.
I’m not sure if I’m already in love with him, but what I’m sure about is that I like him a lot.
Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long. No matter what I say or do, I’ll still feel you here ‘til the moment I’m gone. You hold me without touch. You keep me without chains. I never wanted anything so much, than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.
Set me free, leave me be. I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity. Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I’m supposed to be. But you’re on to me and all over me.
© Gravity, Sarah Bareilles
I want to tell this all to him and let him know that I’m almost-obsessed with him and make him be aware of his two-year-long admirer. I want to let him know how much I appreciate him and his quirks and epic fail antics. I want him to know how much his determination, perseverance and damn brains knock the ragged breath out of me. I want to tell him how much he inspires me to go to school every day even though he isn’t my schoolmate. I want to scream into his face how much he means to me, how his virtual emoticons make me go jelly all over, how his Facebook beeps send electricity to my veins that leads me to writing revoltingly cheesy lines like what I’m doing right now. But beneath all these “I wants”, all I really yearn for is to see him in all his wonderful physicality.
When I was in high school, I can show and tell a guy that I liked him. But with him, the case is different. Outright avowal needs thorough calculations and educated guesses. I came up with the deduction that maybe I find it hard to tell him how I feel because: 1) we’re not super friends; 2) I’m not worthy of him; 3) I can’t even imagine myself dating him because 4) he’s too good, smart and perfect for me, which really
sucks; and 5) I can’t properly enunciate comprehensible words to him (even a “Hi” is a pain) because 6) I freak out and run away when I see him, which is basically not
cool. My past victims were plainly inferior to me when it comes to attentiveness and grade-consciousness; I regarded myself as someone better than them (which was utterly immoral), so I guess it was easier to be vocal about some feelings issues. But then he came, and I feel so inferior next to him that I might as well kill myself or stay in a dark corner and still kill myself. He’s standing in the upper part of the Awesome People List, while I was there, so
down there I’m eaten by the shadows. I feel so small compared to him. He’s so much more accomplished, smart, friendly and focused. I’m basically, seriously and painfully
not worthy of someone like him. We’re figuratively unequal.
And when I think about it – the declaration of my fascination for him – if it ever happens, it would
scare the heck out of me. I don’t know what I’d do the moment he learns about it. I hate awkward walls and all that consciousness because they’re all shits. It would
break me if he learns about it and decides to stay away from me. Oh, please,
more pain now, eh? I’m
dead if he comes up with the conclusion that I’m a creepy stalker and shouldn’t be considered a friend. But I still want for him to know about it. I don’t know in what way, but it should be given a voice, maybe because I believe it would lessen the burden of yearning and would help me properly sort out what I really feel for him. I know it wouldn’t wane everything, but at least I know where I should stand, what I should expect and when to stop waiting and hoping.
I miss him a lot, even if he doesn’t miss me back. I like him a lot, even if he doesn’t like me back. I would just wait for that moment when I’m really sure what I feel, and for that day when we meet again and hope I won’t freak out.
Let’s not make awkward walls, GEMV, okay? (I’m sorry if I wrote about him again. I just needed to release this confusion.)
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
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Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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