At Mornings Like These.

It’s a new morning, yes. I love mornings. I love the smell of breakfasts. I love how sunlight slowly creeps through the trees and branches near our house. It’s a constant feeling of renewal—that I could do something good today, live far from yesterday and to look forward to tomorrow.

Yes, I do love mornings.

But I do hate waking up alone in an empty house.

(It breaks my heart to know that no one even bothers to tell me that they’re leaving. They just leave; lock the front door and let me find out for myself. But they do leave breakfast out for me, that’s nice.)

It’s just when I’m home alone like this, I can’t help but to think that no one’s gonna come back. How miserable it would be, to stay in a house and wait for someone to go home to you, but never will.

*Sigh, family issues.

The silence is deafening. I plan to watch anime after writing this, just to drown it out. I’m scared. 

What I'm Waiting/Looking For

People often have ideas on what kind of Love they’re waiting/looking for. Other people say that they want someone who would stand by them through thick and thin, someone who would be their partner in life, facing challenges together. Some people say someone they could watch the stars with. Others still, would say someone who can see right through them. I could go on forever about what people say about Love, but, hey, what’s Hollywood for then? :))

We all have our different ideas on love, different expectations, different people we’re waiting or looking for.

 As for me, what am I looking for?

I’m not the type to want being tied down to something. Okay, maybe I have commitment issues. (I can see myself in a relationship, yes, but just not now.) Right now, the idea on the matter is: I want someone who would allow me to have my own adventures. I want to see the world through my eyes and taste it as it is. And, that person, I will allow him to do the same. I don’t want to be with him all the hours of the day.

 We’ll have our own adventures.

But, every night, when it is time for rest, I want to go home to a person. And I want that person to go home to me too. I want us to talk to each other and tell each other stories of what happened during the day. I can see myself going: Amazing! or like: Too bad. And he can say the same to my stories. I’ll laugh over dinner and a joke he thought of earlier today. I’d cry and he’d hug me tight (I can do the same). He’d get upset at me but can’t stay mad too long. A home.

And before going to bed, he’d hold my hand, just to let me know that he’d be there in the morning (I hate waking up to an empty house). And when I do wake up (I presume I’d wake up earlier than him), I’ll stroke his hair and admire his face, the man I love. I’ll get up, get ready for another day, with new adventures and new challenges, knowing that I can come home to this person.

And no matter how badly the world treats me, whatever the insignificant people think of me, I wouldn’t care, because I know I have a home I can go home to.