THE CONTEXT OF WHAT.

I don't understand. I don't think I understand the context of love. In fact, I'm sure I've never been in love.

A lot of my relationships were based on total affection. Someone liked the idea of one another's and suddenly we found each other bonded in a relationship. I've never said the three words to anyone. It's easy to speak when the love is real. It's dead mute when it doesn't exist.

However, I'm sure that there were days I loved them as there were also days I chose to love myself more. After a long time of expecting my ideal love to happen, I decided I was done with it. I shortened the time that should have been spent on getting to know the person, demanded straightaway what I wanted, and expressed severe reactions when they couldn't live up to my requests. What I was left with, is now.

Now, I doubt people. It seems difficult to trust the smallest gesture. I find interest in lust, flirting and conversations at night. Lust is lust. It's a one-time thing even if it hits twice. Flirting sounds so not delight, yet the core of the act is it. Conversation is the most important thing. It connects two minds. If I'm not careful, I'll find myself falling slowly.. fast. It'll be impossible to stay sane. That's when I seek for a dark corner and a familiar drink to murder the butterflies in my stomach and erase the feelings that I feel. I can't allow myself to be in love. That destructive thing brings joy to people's life so just one day, it takes away everything they've ever had. The getting-back-to-track life is torture.

I have feelings for someone that's supposed to be an one-time thing. And I also have a dear feeling towards someone I hope to befriend with. Clearly I put myself in troubles in a blink of an eye. I need to speak straight to the first person all at once so I can set myself free. And, I don't know, should I befriend with the second person or not? In my teenage years, boys were problems of hair pulling and unwanted back stickers. In my twenties, guys are butterflies in my stomach and virus to my brain.

Whatever happens, I should thank them for the inspirations to write. For the midnight snacks, warm Earl Grey, and arms when needed.

In my mind, my prince wears suits, or at least a white shirt, has a proper helmet, and reads more than I do. He must be a big fan of animals, and never hesitates to take up a new sport. He cooks and wakes up earlier than me. He likes Wes Anderson and watches Quentin Tarantino. But puts Breakfast at Tiffany's first because I've never watched it and I should. He listens to me and understands my ideas without speaking a word. I must feel truly myself when I'm with him. In short, my prince dresses properly and knows his priorities. I believe what I've stated sounds very funny. Truth to be told, I've always had that idea of him since I was nine or ten.

I saw a man in a suit and a pair of oxfords today driving a Ducati. Needless to say, I was sold. Maybe we'll bump into each other soon. Maybe not. For now, all I can do is staying single firmly and confidently because I'm the best when I'm with myself. I shall let the future be decided in the hands of God.