It's harder when I think that life and love is easier when the parties involved are in the same spectrum of the relationship. The truth is, I always get hurt more often than not. It's not because we are in disagreement with one another, but it's because I find out I could never really be fully me. The adjustments are difficult to endure.
I barely slept after finally catching winks while having lunch. The entire night was spent sulking over trivial sexual mis-pursuits. It was then that I wanted to make her feel that I am deeply disappointed with myself and the both of us for not trying harder and for being hard-pressed to try to understand what each of us were thinking at that particular moment. It's funny how when I look back now I always seem to think I myself am the bad guy, when in fact all I ever wanted was an extra more affection. How hard can that be in a mutual relationship between lovers? And so when I wake up four or five hours or so, there she was sitting beside me in bed staring at the screen, looking bored as all hell, and still I try to sulk, bathe her in guilt and my disappointment with silence and cold shoulder. I rise up immediately without a word and walks limply towards the loo to pee, and I realise I don't really need to pee. It was just my way of getting to her emotionally. And I loathe that, because it is that beginning which alienates people around me. The beginning of something painful. The beginning of despair.
It wasn't the first and only time I felt like that though. It's always like this every other day. Like I'm the sort of person unworthy of a friend. First I ask for it, then I beg for it, then I whine to life about it, and now that I have it, I'm scorned and feeling exactly the same as I was before this and maybe even more. So I tiptoed to the kitchen hoping not to see her face for just an inch of my time. I had a hearty soup, but even then I sulked to the heat of the instant noodly appendages of the edible shit that went to my guts. There was something awfully wrong with this idea that dawned on to me all of a sudden, and I fear I can't turn away because the other recourse is fearful over being miserable.
This was a day that could have changed our lives for something greater. The girl in mention was to have a flight back home to her country, and I, for some unforeseen serendipitous (if it was) reason, convinced her to stay with me because of our growing attraction with each other. We were inseparable to the point of sickening. We were souls intertwined by chance, despite me being pressured only by my selfish will to dominate all these other living things surrounding me now. I was lost for a moment, and the herbivorous girl was there eating her greens and oil. She spoke to me first, otherwise all of this wouldn't have happened. She was there, euphoric in her desire to be lost, as I was miserably banging my head on the bed.
For some moment, no words were shared and the wind was frail and awkward for myself, I doubt for her it's the same. She tired herself as she leapt and wrapped herself in duvet while I mind my own with the intention to ignore her. She crawled back in forth, here and there, and then to me. She wraps her hands around me.
I suppose I should keep my stance for better or worse, but what the hell is it worth for when this woman has barely the wit to comprehend it? So I melted to her desire and mine, fell back to her arms, leaned for a strong, wet kiss. Up there and down there, we slowly made sensual love just as she likes.
Then our orgasms met supernova in res, collapsing my tired back to the bed. I gave her the sweetest kiss that I could muster, but tears were falling off her all of a sudden. She would not bother explaining why. This is my greatest weakness of all.