I am, a boyfriend.
In this role, I'm a boyfriend.
In this role, I'm a boyfriend.
It has been awhile since I've typed out my blogposts out on notepad first before I put it up.
My girlfriend was worried for me that I was tired of the relationship, that I was tired of her. I would like to dedicate some space on this little corner to her.
I love you. I can't be the gangster boyfriend with the fearless attitude; I can't be the romantic boyfriend that writes you poems; I can't be the reliable boyfriend that can give you a shoulder to cry on when you're upset; I can't be the prince that can give you accessibility to the things you'd want. I can only be myself. I'm not in any of those categories.
I'm not there when you need me; I can't help when I'm there; I never bought you anything you vocally wanted; I never wrote to you anything romantic; I'm a wimp that doesn't even dare to speak to you openly anymore. All I do is look for a corner and whimper. I'm not awesome. Not at all. To be honest I'm scared shitless everytime you mention that I am.
However, from the first time we met; the first time you put your head on my shoulders; the first time I put my hand unto the small of your back; the first time we held hands; the first time we kissed. I felt complete. I can't be any of those things and yet you've accepted me. You are much, much more awesome than I can ever be. I'm very grateful for that.
There are many things that I've said to you before but there is always something that I've always neglected to tell you. Something far less complex than "I love you", something far less romantic.
Thank you, dear. For letting me be your boyfriend.
I'm in a slump. I know what to do, but I've lost most if not all motivation to continue. I can't believe all this is because of an unfortunate event on that date. I can't think rationally, my finances are in the dumps, I'm struggling to fit back into my college life. I can't go back to my original life of a loner. I can't go back to arcades and relief stress, it just doesn't work anymore. I can't write. I can't speak. I have no outlet. Not even this place. I'm trapped in my own rational mind, thinking up million of possibilities of what could've happened and what can happen in the future.