avery

a space for a frustrated author’s mind to thrive (hopefully)

[everluster]

So, then, tell me—what is love if not pain?

Maybe it was never our souls intertwining, but their existence slowly consuming mine. And was it ever a mystifying devotion—to surrender so much of myself to the one my heart relentlessly beats for—or was it a terrifying act of relinquishing dignity?

Perhaps the dream I so desperately convinced myself I was living was nothing but a nightmare waiting patiently for me to fall too deep—never to escape.

And so, painfully, I willed myself to wake. To find peace in the misery I had long confined myself to—believing, all this time, that it was all I'm rightful of.

[everluster]

An Abstract of Love

I never wanted to be loved, possibly because I didn’t truly know what love meant. However, I wanted to be seen, to be known, without having to beg for attention or effort.

I yearned for someone to notice the little things—like my usual coffee order—and engrave them in their mind. I longed for someone to listen, not out of obligation, but because it felt essential to them. Someone who deemed even the most trivial details about me important.

I dreamed to be coveted, as though I was the air they breathe. I prayed for a gaze that lingered, one weighted with the purest desire, as if looking away would cause them agony.

I never wanted to be loved, but I wanted to feel like I was someone’s wish fulfillment, as much as they would be mine.

[everluster]

Forever, in Dreams

Your hold on me is inevitable, perhaps, a result of my ardent and unrelenting desire for even the smallest fragment of your love. An invisible force drew me in, one you were painfully oblivious of, yet one l helplessly succumbed to. I refused to let go, even as it drained the life from me. But we were like the same sides of a magnet—fated never to touch, no matter how desperately I chased after you. And so, I chose to admire you from afar, letting my love linger in silent reverence, offering you every part of me in an altruism that scorched my very soul.

I was listening to Yung Kai’s “Blue” song and thought of writing this.

[everluster]

Scotch and Sorrows Past

After dusk was the most dreary. The hours stretched long and hollow. It meant having to cocoon myself back into the lonely corners of my one-hundred square feet apartment—the same space that used to radiate with life and warmth not too long ago. Now, it was everything but.

Every sunset marked the start of a new routine, a flimsy attempt to leave my old, broken system behind.

I replaced the usual check-ins after work, the marathon movie nights, the playful banters that would sometimes spiral into a silly fight, the meals I cooked just because she asked, and the comfort of holding her as we end the night together. In their place, I’ve tried experimenting with new recipes that no one would taste, flipping through pages of books without an ounce of interest, discovering new music that felt empty, and meeting new people who would never compare.

But my efforts always end up a useless cry as I continuously look for what’s missing.

Each step felt like a treacherous journey in barren, unclaimed territory and I was not one to test new waters like a careless walk in the park. So I lingered, too lost to move forward. Too afraid to leave her behind.

Desperately, I waited. Somewhere in the cold, dark pit that was starting to consume me, I yearned for a hand to reach out—warm, steady, and certain. To have someone catch me before the void took over. Afraid I would forget my way back home, I waited for the time our paths would cross again. I waited restlessly for her.

In my eyes, we were so perfect. So right.

Every day with her felt like living in a fairytale. She was the kind of beauty that turned heads, the woman everyone sought after, yet she chose me. I was her knight—not a perfect one, perhaps, with a battered armor and dull sword, but one that would lay down his life for her without a second thought. It was a story that deserved a happily ever after—the kind that left people in awe, wishing it was their own. A love that was destined to be eternal.

But maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I was too enamored by the intoxicating feeling of being by her side to notice the tiny cracks seeping through our relationship. I didn’t see how her spark dimmed, little by little, or how her presence felt like sand slowly slipping through my fingers.

Now, her name stared back at me through the phone screen, as if mocking me with its nearness. One click of a button and I could satisfy the unceasing urge to hear her voice. An hour’s drive and I could quench this unbearable longing of seeing her face again.

A couple glasses of scotch could only numb the pain for so long. But it was easier. Safer. It wouldn’t make her loathe me more than she already might. And maybe, if I drank enough, I could convince myself that she was still within reach.

Inspired by Hozier’s cover of Arctic Monkey’s Do I Wanna Know?