When I'm 27, I think I'll live alone in an apartment with glitter dreams and fluorescent glaze. A master bedroom, a queen sized bed, a glam vanity table, a pleasantly aesthetic work space, a modern bathroom, a lonely kitchen, an empty living room, a quiet balcony.
My routine would be monotonous, but I've grown to like it and be disciplined. I work out every evening and take a long showers. I eat quickly and skip dinners. There are no words to be exchanged because there is no one to talk to. Everytime I attend any events, they think I get my shit together and they praised me. "You're admirably independent" that's what they said. They don't know my heart breaks everyday in quietude.
I talk to the 2 fishes in the tank at my work space sometimes, most of it being "I want someone to hold me lovingly" and they didn't even spare a glace. Because why would they? I choose this. I still think someone out there might understand the aloneness that I opted for never equalizes fondness of being lonely. I'm only afraid.
Even with my growth, some things are still the same. I dislike commitments. I never want to get a cat or a pet or a man or a woman. I still stare at the wall sometimes wondering where did it all went wrong, just like how I did when I was 20. Wounds untreated infested to an infection. Wounds left to be forgotten are marred with scars.
I wear make-up a lot more than I used to now. A mask that conceals the tiredness in my eyes and the discolour of my cheeks. I starve myself too because I want that 25 inches waist I have talked about. Men thinks they're out of my league. They are.
But at nights, those hours are the worst. I stand at the balcony in tears, I lay on the couch with fatigue and I grip the sheets tight to stop myself from texting anyone asking for a company. Sleep doesn't come when you're lonely, I learnt that the hard way.
I still try to do things I used to love — still love, hopefully — I finished all the anime and manga in my watch list. I buy books and read them slowly. No rush now. I'm not 16 anymore. I buy make-up products a lot too and scroll down online shopping apps. But loneliness doesn't just let go anyone out of its hold.
I wish someone smiles at me gleefully as they watch me get ready for the day. Sneak a kiss on my forehead when I read, place my head on their lap when I window shop and run their fingers on my hair when I watch shows. All I get is a silent gust of wind an excruciating pain of yearning.
When I'm 27, I think I'm still lonely. Wish upon a shooting star for a sweet love but a hundred steps back in paranoia. Several bank accounts worth 6 digits, collections of everything of a woman, a name high up in the clouds, a reputation that keeps being written, a throng of unwanted suitors, a group of faceless acquaintances, a list of non stop formal parties.
A heaviness in the heart.
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Letters
PoetryLetters for the past and future me. Most of the time, not even letters. Just musings.