F(O)RE(VER) [[ON-HOLD]]

F(O)RE(VER) [[ON-HOLD]]

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Sep 19, 2015
"I wrote this song looking at you. Telling everyone how much I really do care and love you, And, Cassandra, If I say I really love you, will you believe it--no scratch that! Will YOU believe ME?" He ask. I really don't know the answer but theres one thing I am totally sure about. If I say yes, will forever exist? I think. NO.
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In a world where everyone wants to be aesthetic, she's used to being admired but never truly seen. Compliments come easy-"You're so pretty!" "You look amazing!"-but no one ever asks, "Are you okay?" For the longest time, she's felt like a painting in a gallery-gazed at, praised, but never really known. Then there's him. He's not the poetic type who spins metaphors about her beauty, nor the mysterious bad boy everyone secretly obsesses over. He's just... him. The kind of person who forgets his umbrella on rainy days, orders the same coffee every morning, and sometimes stumbles over his words when he's excited. The first time they talked, he didn't stare too long. Didn't say she was breathtaking. Instead, he simply asked: "Pagod ka na ba?" And somehow, that meant more than any compliment ever did. With him, she doesn't have to be perfect. She doesn't have to be put together, doesn't have to filter her words or curate every moment. She can be quiet, messy, lost in her thoughts-and still, he stays. He listens. He waits. He makes her feel like she doesn't have to be anyone else but herself. Sometimes, love isn't about grand gestures or heart-fluttering moments. Sometimes, it's just someone who makes space for you, who stays even when the moment isn't aesthetic, even when you're not your best, even when you have nothing to say. And for the first time, she doesn't feel like a painting in a gallery. She feels like she's home.

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