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Category: Prose
Theme: Forcing yourself to be someone else just to be loved
I kept looking into your eyes. I am wishing—no, I am begging for it to be something more. I am begging to the point that I’m willing to accept your warmth even though it is meant for someone else. For someone who could not handle your warmth the way I do. For someone who is not me.
I crave this kind of closeness—your hands gently touching my skin. But at the same time... I lose myself in this kind of intimacy. I’m letting myself be someone I’m not. I’m letting myself be her. I’m letting you pretend that I’m the girl you want me to be. But I don’t mind, because as long as you don’t see the dark edges of me, I’ll be fine. As long as I’m making you happy, I’ll be alright.
But there is a part of me that wishes that you can see right through me. I’m already on my knees, begging you to love me because I’m me. But I’m still willing to lie in order for you not to leave me. I’d lie to the moon that it doesn’t hurt. I’d lie to myself that this is the real me. I’d lie to you and say that I’m the girl you wanted. You can guess the things that I want, and I’d still say yes even though it’s the opposite of it. I don’t like olives, but I’ll eat it anyway because you said that I like it even though you never see me eat one.
I know we can never be worthwhile, but I can be whoever you want me to be, and I’ll do it. You can look into my eyes and pretend I’m someone else. If it means I can feel the love that you failed to give her.
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