I once read a good book. The first time I read The Beginning of Everything by Robyn Schneider I knew instantly that it’s going to be my second favorite read for all eternity (by that I mean so far). There were very few times that I’m sure of myself and the experience with that book is one of them.
I once said that I can just stay here and live with travelling the world even just through your eyes because whenever I talk to you, you take me to places.
I said that maybe life is worth it, after all, when I can see things that I love happy even from afar.
I said your hand that clasped with mine the first time was the hand that made me feel that I may belong to somebody.
I said I am always not sure about you but your uncertainty excites me.
I said you are the combination of all little but great things that makes life a little more tolerable. And that maybe the world might forget to appreciate you.
I said that you are the sunset, the rare cool air amidst of summer and all the world’s beauty that people are so used to that they forget how beautiful you really are. I even said I can be the person who would just drop everything just to admire you.
I am a motherfucking pessimist but the only thing I can see is the good in you.
They said you’re conceited. You’re lazy. You’re all the bad things they can think of. They said you only see things when they’re around you. You’re indecisive and when you’ve finally made a decision it’s bad. They said you’re trying too hard.
They said awful things about you like you’re an intimidating nature-green river like you’re really just dirty and actually shallow.
I didn’t wanna believe them. I don’t believe them. I know what exactly I see in you and that’s what I believe.
But as much as I enjoy being unsure of things, sometimes my confusion tires me. Like maybe yes, you aren’t those things that they’re saying but sometimes I think that sadly maybe you’re not those things that I say too.
That I just romanticized the things I see in you.
Oftentimes I think that I owe you my happiness. Sometimes I’m sure I really do. Because you makes me happy like no one else could. Or you used to. I’m often disappointed now. Maybe I haven’t seen you for far too long that it both changed us.
I think maybe my best friend is right.
If I can get hold of everything then maybe this doesn’t makes sense anymore. Maybe I’m just wasting my time. Maybe I like to consider it because it’s just nice. Maybe it’s just really nice to love. Or to just feel anything.
A line from The Beginning of Everything said:
She lent a spark, perhaps, or tendered the flame, but the arson was mine.
I’ve been re-watching Game of Thrones recently and I just saw that episode when Khal Drogo poured Viserys Targaryen his crown. It made me think of this line by Schneider. And then I thought of you, I think maybe the way I feel for you is so much alike with the first person. It’s just shittier because the pronoun should be he. Like maybe I should’ve never let you consume me. It’s been far too long. It’s tiring. The way I see you is like how Viserys Targaryen sees himself.
Maybe you are those things. Maybe what I see in you are things that I wanted to see. Maybe that’s just a version of you in my head when you’re actually far from it. I used to think that maybe they just don’t understand you, but now I don’t think if I still do or if I ever really did.
I once said that I’m not gonna give up on you even though it’s just a war I’m fighting alone. It’s been almost five years now. It’s been so tiring. It is exhausting. As much as I wanted to feel differently, you are proving me wrong. You don’t have anything to prove to me anyway.
I used to love everything about you. Your stubbornness. Your uncertainties. Your laziness. I loved how you think. I loved how that only thing I wanted to experience is how your mind works and how I always wanted to see the world through your eyes.
I still don’t believe on things they said about you, but I’m not sure if I still believe on my version of you too.
I’m starting to see things a little bit better. Maybe I saw things differently because that’s how I wanted to see them. My version of you used to exist in my parallel world– but it’s not who you really are. It’s just all me who made it seem like it. But truly, you’re just, well, you. Afterall, you are no dragon.