"What's the point in sunshine, when all you feel is rain," — BipolarSunshine

Sometimes, all we want is to be understood unconditionally. To be loved.
But what's the point of it all when we can't even do the same?
What's the point of it all when the person who will understand us unconditionally finally arrive, yet we can't seem to appreciate that person?
What if that person have been standing right in front of us the whole time?
What's the point of asking and seeking for love, when it finally stare you right in the face,
You ran.
When you finally get it, you can't even appreciate it. Instead, you ask for some more.
What is the point?
What is the point of it all?




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I'm currently in a state of happiness.
At least I think I am.
Yet, I feel exhausted. Its like subconsciously, I feel tired like all the time.
But I do feel happy.

Wait.

I think, I decided to feel happy. I decided that I'm the only person who can control on how I feel about things that is happening around me, so I decided that I am happy, because I am. I decided that I am happy because, for all the not so good, bad and sad things that are happening around me, there will always something to be happy about. Because we should always look on the bright side of life.

Right?
Right.

But I also think I'm in a state of aporia.
What is Aporia?
You know that feeling of crazy emptiness you get when you realize that something you believed isn't actually true? And then things feel even more weird when you realize that actually, the thing you believed might be true and might not — and you'll never know? That is aporia.

Yet, I still feel happy. 

I do still feel lonely from time to time.

But for whatever reason, I feel as if I just make peace with my self. I feel as if I make peace with my tortured soul. 

I don't know how, and I don't know when. 

I feel as if the heaviness on my chest has been lifted. Little by little. 

Oh, even writing this makes me want to burst into tears. Tears of joy. It makes me want to burst into song and dance around. I want to feel the wind on my face. I want to feel the grass on my feet.

I want to feel the sun on my skin.

Its been 10 months since the last time I saw you.

And now you're here. 

I would like to believe that I stopped missing you. 

I mean, we did not only go days but months without meaningful conversation. I can't seem to talk to you like we used to and I used to miss you so much every time I remember or remind myself of that.

But now you're finally here, it seem as if I stopped missing you. 

I want to see you, yet I don't.

I want to talk to you, yet I don't. 

Very fickle aren't I? 

But hey, if I can make the complicated uncomplicated I probably won't be very fickle. 

And all I can do is remind myself that, if he wants to talk to me, he can. If he wants to see me, he can.

But he can't expect me to be standing right next to him after everything. He can't expect me to be the only one who fights for us, when that was all I did for the last couple of month. All I did was fought for us. When all I did was trying to find something that no one had ever said in the history of the world, that could change our situation. 

I've let my guard down. I've set my ego free. I've put aside my pride. For him. 

For us.

So he can't no longer expect anything. If he wants me, he have to be the one who put his pride aside. He have to show it. Say it.  

Because at the end of the day, I do wants to know if everything that I feel is real. 

But I don't want to drown in my sorrow. Sorrow that is created from loving you. And I don't want to stay in darkness for any longer, hence I won't wait for anyone to come and save me. Because the only person that save me, is me. 

So if what I feel is real, and you also feel the same way, then I think I'm ready.

If it is, we should let our world re-collide. 

If it isn't, or if you don't feel the same way, I will stand in the sun, by myself. 

For what I feel is not loneliness but solitude. I will fill the darkness in the empty space inside of me with light. Because if you're lucky, if you're one of the luckiest person in this world, the person you love decides to love you back. If you're lucky enough, their love will help you venture out of fear and darkness and guide you into the light and not lose you (again) or their self in the darkness. To the darkness. 

And I'm grateful for the rain someone gave me, but I won't let what anyone say or said or didn't say, did or do, or didn't do eclipse what I deserve. I won't let my bad luck on love keep me from being happy. I won't let it make me bitter. Because he, whoever he is, is not the sun, the sun is all around me and in me, and I decided to feel its warmth, with or without him. 

Because what is the point of waiting?

What is the point of trying?

What is the point of sacrificing and giving it my all? 

When you don't want to meet me halfway. 

Its not that you can't, you just won't.

What is the point of giving you a chance, when you can't even give me a chance?

What is the point in sunshine, if all I feel is rain?

So instead, I will appreciate the cloud when it hide the sun and when it started to rain. But when the rain stopped, I will stand in the sun and feel its warmth on my skin. Alone. And I'll be okay with that.