Sometimes I think it funny that some people look to me for advice. People I barely know, like my new students, tend to ask me what to do when they're in sticky love situations. Past students send me messages, sharing to me their latest experiences. Some even chat with me here in facebook.
But my closest friends don't do those things. Well, not counting those who confessed to me that they were gay. Mostly though, I even have to offer my friends advice when I think they really need them.
I suppose those around me see what the others do not. That I am barely keeping my affairs in order. How can one whose life is in disarray even help others?
It's funny, that. Like here I am, immersing myself in all kinds of emotional tangles then proclaiming to the world how much I have grown. That finally, I am becoming more self-reliant in terms of happiness but still, I'm here writing this at 5 in the morning. Unable to sleep.
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This afternoon I saw this guy in the MRT. And I liked how he looked. Then later I found myself sitting beside him in the jeepney on the way here to UP. And I was looking at his neck, of all things. He was so close that if I moved an inch closer he will be feeling my heavy breathing on his skin. It is during times like these that I feel most ashamed. Not because of having intimate thoughts like that which were normal for almost every (gay) man. But because I still fail in believing that I don't need anyone to make me happy.
It's like being a teacher who does not teach. A swimmer who does not swim. I feel like I was meant to love, and not loving anyone pains me. It is obviously a struggle I haven't overcome yet. If you want to know how it feels then think of not being able to do that one thing you want the most. Whatever it is that makes your life meaningful. Let go of that. That is what I am doing right now and it is SO very difficult, reader.
I just feel like I have so many good things to share. That all these unchanneled emotions and thoughts are going down the drain because they're not doing any good, bottled up inside. I just feel like I need someone to do things with not because I cannot do them on my own but because it feels more MEANINGFUL that way.
I am one of those people who exemplify that life is meant to be shared. That whatever I learn from things which are far above what they taught us in school should also be told to others because they might learn from them too. I could have written this entry in a diary, for instance, but it would have done others no good that way. And what's ironic is that even if I have this philosophy clear in my mind, I myself don't have someone special to share these to.
I feel like I need someone to listen to me and someone to listen to. A hand to hold which will hold my hand back. A love to love me back.
I used to think of this absence as a hole in my heart. Something incomplete which needs to be filled. Now I think of myself as a magnet, trying hard not to be attracted. Something which just IS.
Oh, reader. This is the hardest test I have ever gone through.
To not be... me.
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