It has been years I yearned to have a crying shoulder. For all that years, I wanted him to be my crying shoulder. He is my other half, he should have known my desires. Not only the tricks on the bed, you know.
I always asked him if he could listen to my story and he would voluntarily say yes. But there always something missing in between. He always ends up cutting my stories and tells me about his. As a good girlfriend, I always end up listening to his stories all day. And I would come back home frustrated for not being able to let him know what is upsetting me this week.
Is it the way I talk is too much or the story is too boring?
As an introvert, stories are mumbled, feelings are being kept. I just want a crying shoulder, for god sake. Why does he not understand that I could not gather up words that could describe my feeling, instantly? He should know by now, we even shared the same blanket for countless nights. Why could he not understand that I take time to tell him something? He should know by now, he traced my chest like a braille book.
To describe him as a boyfriend, there is nothing wrong with him. Every time I’m upset with his stupid act, he tried to minimise it. He would patiently follow me whenever I go for window shopping. Although he would get really upset when the weather gets too hot or he’s dead tired with walking. He even has a proper plan for his life, our life. He’s not the typical narrow-minded guy, he agreed to some of my opinions. He always there for my happy days but he never tended the sad and sappy ones.
I’m not always being a sad girl nowadays, but whenever I had panic attacks or some random anxiety, I can only think of him. He is the one that I could only talk about my personal life. My family was never my choice to tell some secrets because they are the one that made me an emotional wreck. I have some close friends but I never tell them what really happens in my personal life. I envy those who have that kind of friendship. Maybe it was my fault too.
Nonetheless, our relationship is good. There’s an effort to make it better like we wanted it to be. Those freaky and stupid things we do, I treasured it. It is just that whenever I desperately need you, you were never there. Whenever I feel very lonely, too lonely that I decide to cry pathetically. What is wrong with you and what is wrong with me?
I feel like this story is being a drag. It is just a long night for me. Sorry, it was my fault that I never learn how to storytelling and my grammar sucks.