What I really feel

While my writer friend sleeps and have nightmares about me jumping from six floor window (which is by the way suicide-proof), I am tasked to write an essay of 3500 words of what I really feel. Frankly, I don't even know how long a 3500-word essay is because this bloody thing doesn't count till I finish it; and I have no idea where 1000 miles from here means and that's where I'm suppose to be ... bloody hell ... let me just say anything no matter how long it takes. How does that sound, snoring-sleeping writer friend? :)I wish I could hear him snore!

What I feel? hmmmmmm, let's see. I'm pissed because even if I have control over things, I am self-righteous church-going lass who just can't do anything wrong because of principles I'm sure are right (and they might be right only to me). I am angry and ashamed that I have to start dating again. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack - the search for the not-so-perfect man who makes your heart beat like drums of Africa and makes your mind explode to the large possibilities of how wondrous the world is. I hate the thought of guys asking why I'm still not married at my age ... which is just sooooo predictable nowadays. I'm afraid of REGRET (and this is my greatest fear) and afraid that I might just be taking the safe path instead of venturing to the dangerous unknown, being very provincial instead of exploring. I'm sad that all of this never-ending heaven-sent happiness brought about by just two months of selfishness will all come to an end. I'm in agony of having to face life without feeling safe in those arms and not to be showered with all that love and concern. I fear loneliness, and self-destruction, and eating myself to death because of depression (and gain back all those hard-earned pounds I lost from starving, taebo and just being in-love). I dread not being called "honey" again - I'll miss that most of all. I dread listening to any love song because they would now be like arrows piercing every bit of whatever that's left in me. I'd hate to miss those jokes, and the pranks, and the arguments ... especially the arguments. I hate him for challenging me and I hate the fact that no one else would understand me like he does, and push me to my limits like he does. I hate me for being stupid enough to love him, for choosing what's right, for wanting to be safe instead of happy. And I love him, and love him more, and love him most. (maybe if i keep repeating that I'll get my 3500 words!).

Benjamin Franklin said, "Those things that hurt, instruct." I don't know what I'm suppose to learn from all these. Maybe it will dawn on me soon enough. But now, I just hurt. And it just hurts so bad.

And that's how it feels. Happy now?