Just Another Writer

Does anyone want a woman who can write?  Not really, a lot of men wants the deceptions and illusions.  For those who are true are oftentimes ignored at the corner.  I am the kind who hides in the texts of my compositions.  Is it wrong that most of the time I am scared?   Romantic feelings and interests toward the opposite sex are my fears.  I don’t get it and I just simply don’t know why.  For me it’s not about getting guys or rejections but how to behave accordingly without sweaty hands and stammering speeches.

My love phobia is driving me away from the chances I could have with real men who exist not only in my compositions.  God is totally aware that I have the purest intentions and I don’t take advantage.  I am raised in old school, willing to compromise and submit.  I have so much love in my heart, which I am willing to share.  Will you receive my love and believe in me?

I’m just another writer whose words are trying to reach out the man my heart truly desires.  Another writer whose texts doesn’t come from the brains but from the truthfulness of my being. 

Do you think I don’t want to be out in my room and be with you tonight?  You just don’t know how hard it is for me to stop myself from reaching out because I don’t want to disturb or annoy you.  I always thought of other’s welfare before myself.  Always give way but oftentimes misunderstood.   Do I have to feel sorry if connecting and communicating are not my best assets and style?  But if you’ll tell me, I won’t hesitate and I won’t hold back.  

Yet, once upon a time, I didn’t get away and overcame my phobia. I am there, always there but only to shatter every cell of my being.  There was no happily ever after only lessons learned, a dose of growing up and be my own heroine.  The defeat was bitter.  Likewise, there were somehow lavish and precious memories worth storing.  Perhaps, the pain won’t escape until the present time but giving love a chance is the bravest decision I ever made.  Others said not worth it and what a waste.  They should have asked, ‘did you ever love?’ 

Moreover, there are experiences in life that will pull you away from reality.  When the ache lingers, love is not only my phobia but it becomes impossible to attain.  Thus, I return to where I used to belong grabbing my paper and pen for I am just another writer, my friend.  Indeed, I’m just another writer who wants to have you and own your hugs and kisses.  There’s no denying that I have ability to jot down my thoughts.  I hope you feel in your heart that there’s truth in my words.  These are not plain texts that come out from my ideas, but it’s all the language of my heart.

      I am just another writer loving and missing you so much.  Is it alright to have you, my dear?



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