Sometimes...

Sometimes I need what I want, until someone proves to me I don’t.

Sometimes I like being neglected (talk about masochism), so I can seek refuge from something else, more often with someone else. Sometimes I like being taken cared of too, because it defines my day or week, more so, it defines how I get to be me.

Sometimes I hate how I miss people, how I obliged them to extend a “Hi” or “Hello” to me whenever necessary. Sometimes, I don’t know when is it necessary, nor can I define necessity at this given aspect.

Sometimes I like to remain unnerved from everything that stresses me out – from work, from love, from home. But I don’t know how long it will eventually take me to be strong enough to not let them get into me… Sometimes, I think that’s impossible.

Sometimes I’m caught up between too many things I love, like singing and writing. Sometimes I like to sing more, other times I write more. Sometimes I think they could never go the same direction.

Sometimes I think love’s absurd, other times I think it just is extraordinary.

Sometimes I love to cry, rant and vent out. Sometimes I think that’s one cowardly act. Sometimes I wish I’ll know how to always keep these eyes dry.

Sometimes I need affirmations to get me through some rough days. Sometimes I think they just lure you to forgetting bad moments, but still nurse those moments with reflection at the end of the day.

Sometimes I think I don’t need anyone, and disprove this to myself all over again.

Sometimes I worry about what’s underneath. Sometimes I think I’m too shallow, sometimes I think I’m too slow. Sometimes I think I’m strong, other times I think I’m wrong.

Sometimes I know I cannot always figure ME out, but sometimes that’s okay, right?