Infatuated Babysitter
Indeed, that thing called 'love' comes in unexpected moments. Going a few nightouts back, I encountered You unexpectedly at my house.
Warning: The next sentences may make you puke due to sentimental 'corned' terms which one may not expect from a me (since I've never been this emotional).
It had been a common post in blogs about people and their friggin' love life and I'm telling you everytime I read about one... *sigh* curses...
But is it really that way? When one feels that strange feeling, one has the craving for letting the public have an idea about it? Maybe the answer is in front of your eyes. I'm not that kind of person but I am it now and it is because of this odd sensation deep inside (damn--there you go!!! Corn!!).
Let me address these words to my YOU and as usual, I won't mention names--just clues. It's like Blues Clues meets Korean Melodrama. Moving on, if you remember quite clearly, I mentioned about "relationship" alongside "babysitting" from my Tuesday Falling Star blogpost. And realizing I'm becoming a gourmet in this idea, I shall once again eat some of my words. Am I really that desperate? Or Am I just that 'infatuated'?
We spent the other night together and indeed it was one of the best nights I've had. And the feeling just reminds me of that of the time I posted my blog about eating shawarma for the first time (one of my first few blogs dealing with "love" or "infatuation"). And this very very early morning, I had enough courage and extra load to have a conversation with you. It was odd; I fought sleepiness to have the conversation with you. We had the whole two hours texting and the next 42 minutes and 57 seconds spilling odd personal questions--which I've never done for years with someone I like. And I've been laughing the wholetime---you noticed. It was the other me--laughing at the infatuated me. It was very foolish of me--don't worry, you're not the only one confused here. I am also confused---I'm not into this thing and I've made mention about not wanting to be some babysitter.
But right now, I guess babysitting would do good... just to fucking have you (corn... more corns please!!). If you only knew, I'm saving your messages like hell (corn). And I read them over and over and I get the tingles whenever I read the pronoun 'us' you used (Damn right, I'm being a fucking highschooler again). And I keep on looking for hidden messages embedded between lines. Actually, I even learned how you compose your texts.
Before we ended our phonecall this early morning, I dropped the bomb question. Funny thing is that you just played with it and asked for specifics. I parried the idea that I was about to detonate it for the sake of expressing what I want to happen between us (there goes that pronoun once more!!! And.. CORN CORN CORN)
"I need to go back to sleep...Good night." I ended and we bid goodbyes.
Fuck love. Damn, I hate this. But will I be able to control the feeling?
To be fucking continued....
Warning: The next sentences may make you puke due to sentimental 'corned' terms which one may not expect from a me (since I've never been this emotional).
It had been a common post in blogs about people and their friggin' love life and I'm telling you everytime I read about one... *sigh* curses...
But is it really that way? When one feels that strange feeling, one has the craving for letting the public have an idea about it? Maybe the answer is in front of your eyes. I'm not that kind of person but I am it now and it is because of this odd sensation deep inside (damn--there you go!!! Corn!!).
Let me address these words to my YOU and as usual, I won't mention names--just clues. It's like Blues Clues meets Korean Melodrama. Moving on, if you remember quite clearly, I mentioned about "relationship" alongside "babysitting" from my Tuesday Falling Star blogpost. And realizing I'm becoming a gourmet in this idea, I shall once again eat some of my words. Am I really that desperate? Or Am I just that 'infatuated'?
We spent the other night together and indeed it was one of the best nights I've had. And the feeling just reminds me of that of the time I posted my blog about eating shawarma for the first time (one of my first few blogs dealing with "love" or "infatuation"). And this very very early morning, I had enough courage and extra load to have a conversation with you. It was odd; I fought sleepiness to have the conversation with you. We had the whole two hours texting and the next 42 minutes and 57 seconds spilling odd personal questions--which I've never done for years with someone I like. And I've been laughing the wholetime---you noticed. It was the other me--laughing at the infatuated me. It was very foolish of me--don't worry, you're not the only one confused here. I am also confused---I'm not into this thing and I've made mention about not wanting to be some babysitter.
But right now, I guess babysitting would do good... just to fucking have you (corn... more corns please!!). If you only knew, I'm saving your messages like hell (corn). And I read them over and over and I get the tingles whenever I read the pronoun 'us' you used (Damn right, I'm being a fucking highschooler again). And I keep on looking for hidden messages embedded between lines. Actually, I even learned how you compose your texts.
Before we ended our phonecall this early morning, I dropped the bomb question. Funny thing is that you just played with it and asked for specifics. I parried the idea that I was about to detonate it for the sake of expressing what I want to happen between us (there goes that pronoun once more!!! And.. CORN CORN CORN)
"I need to go back to sleep...Good night." I ended and we bid goodbyes.
Fuck love. Damn, I hate this. But will I be able to control the feeling?
To be fucking continued....
