THINGS I WANTED TO SAY BUT NEVER DID (JOURNAL/ALBUM)

9-18-22 @ 7:16 pm 

I Don’t Like It. (Deb Interlude)  

I don’t like the fact that I like it. I like it too much, and I recoil at my selfish skin that wants someone else’s touch rather than itself for its comfort. Debrohn. I’m so fed up, with the ache I felt when I got to touch him. The tortured pain, the pinching bruises I’ve left on myself from trying to get too close. I try to ignore him in the nicest way possible, I do, but every time I see him, his eyes light up in the way I imagine the way mine does when he talks to me. There is no gentle smile on his mouth, his creases of lips weren’t made for that. No, he’s always beaming at me, and I’m always blocking my eyes from it. It’s like he’s the sun, and I’m begging, stop shining so bright, stop blinding me with your welcomes and your greetings but it’s as if he never hears a word. “Bela!”  He practically screams all the time, every day now. He always says my name so right, the way I want a lot of people in my life to say it. I want it to sound like relief, the reason the tension in your body releases, the warm rush in your arms that feel like comfort, and the hushed whisper that makes you believe in success, but you’d rather die than admit it to yourself that you have the faintest faith in it. That’s how he always says it. God, he always says my name so right, the way I want a lot of people in my life to say it. I don’t love him, although I can picture myself waking up with fresh motivation just to tell him that I do. Saying “I love you”. I never know myself if I mean it or not; romantically, I mean. But when they ask “as a friend?” I nod my head and agree. Of course, I do. It seems like an obvious thing for me, but then again it's not obvious to say it as much as I do. So then they continue to ask “ what about as a lover?” and I’m sure the beats of my heart run and then glide to a sturdy halt. I always hesitate when it comes to that question, though I‘m always prepared to hear the words themselves. I’m not sure what to say besides “yes. Of course I do”. 

9-18-22  @ 7:20 pm 

8-25-22 (Deb Interlude)

I didn’t even realise what impact you had on me. I wonder if he knows that I bite my lip as a self-defence mechanism, to keep all the drool exposing my mouth, to keep my smile intact, a locked gate of unconscious desire in between my lips. 

5:51 am, 9-19-22 

Am I Seductive? -Cologne By Beabadoobee ( My Interlude) 

I want to sing along to this song and hit the rewind button, putting it on Queue as much as I need to.

To be honest, I’m kind of not awake in the morning. I would so love to have some filters when I say that he’s very refreshing in the morning. I’m not even half awake and yet every time I’m thinking about how late I’ll be for the bus and how will I act and react when I see him, his voice calling out to me is my first thought when I touch words when I find them and steal them from a dictionary just to sound smarter every time I try to spit them out I'm not sure how I feel, less do I think I feel anything  ̶u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶. Sometimes I think that I only like him for no reason, no reason whatsoever. Couldn’t possibly have a reason why I would  ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶ ever like him. But then I remember the way he’s always gleaming, shining his way down to my face, like laser beams shooting at me at every angle. 

9-19-22 @ 6:17 am 

The Other Woman/Unlove His 2.0 (Interlude about Love)  

I bet you’re nice, I bet that’s why you seem to occupy his time.  But I’m not even involved in that. They’re giving me a chance to forget about him, to “unlove” whatever infatuation I’ve built over the 26 days for him. I might write more about him than I ever need to about anyone, but it’ll help. I’m glad he ignored me today, and I’m even more grateful that I don’t feel hurt. He hasn’t said my name yet and I’m relieved to know that. But if I hear it even once today, even for a single glance and a mutter of syllables that conjoin into my name, I will break. There is a guarantee that it will happen, but it’s not like anyone will see it; it all happens inside. My heart falters but races at the same time. My voice is a little quivered, but I tend to speak loud enough that you're distracted by how shaken I am. And my skin, sensitive to the touch, feeling of the numb. God, I was doing so well. “Hey Bela!!” it rings in my ear, alarming my body with rushing blood, my heart in panic, looking for the nearest door. Found it. 

“Oh, hey Debrohn, “ I say wearily, and of course, he doesn’t notice. I try so hard not to rush out of that wretched place, wanting to run away as far as my veins will let me; as far I can run and how much my lungs will allow me to take. 

9-20-22 @ 5:42am 

My Lover Was the One In The Bleachers 

Feeling A lot more than I should. I kissed him last night, and it was so much; too much. I’m not sure why it feels like I’m forcing myself to want to taste him. He has nice lips, yes, but they don’t have the hypnotic temptation that my lover in the bleachers has. He was excited to help me out, to help me get over himself. “I got you, Bela, I got you,” he said to me yesterday. Cheering for me, giving me support on something I didn’t know I needed help with. 

I wonder if it makes me seem so much shyer than I am; do I make him think I can’t just as easily slam his large 6’4 body against a wall as anyone else? It seems that my exterior displays itself like that. 

9-20-22 @ 6:50 pm

UNTIED LACES (Love Interlude) 

They always untie, it’s like a habit that my shoes take upon themselves. Every time I settle my body down to the near floor and begin to tie the two loops together, I hear your presence in a way I can’t explain other than that. I don’t see it nor feel it, just a presence that ignites my bones, shaking me to the core every time I’m looking up at you, craning up my neck to see your beauty. I could be 5 feet away from you and I’d still have to look up.

 And I always wonder why from the chest up I‘m sore…

The laces seem to get a lot longer as if they’re a living organism that can grow out hair or stalk out some vines. 

It’s what always makes me a trip, falling hard with a loud thud. Don’t worry, my love, I’ll tie my shoes for you, even if I have to bend over and tighten my restraint and desire so tightly against my soles it leaves marks. Then maybe I can finally learn my lesson. I go down in the wrong direction, always, too many times even as the shoes were bought from the one who I should be caring about at the moment. 

              9:54 pm @ 9-20-22

                   Yellow Teeth ( Deb Interlude) 

They’re always gleaning so bright at me, it’s lighter than a yellow sun in the rain. Yellow teeth because his yellow smile reminds me of everything but a subtle yellow sunrise, something more than a blue starry night, or a seductive purple sunset. Yellow teeth because he’s the blinding golden colour beaming at me when he flashes those mirror-shattering smiles. 

                :   am/pm @ 9-  -22

                           Rubberband 

                 9-20-22 @ 10:23pm 

                    Suck up/ Grovel Kiss 

I don’t know if I’m immune to your grovelling kisses yet, but I’m more than sure that I don’t want to be resistant to it yet. The tender touch of a suck-up is more real than most unsusceptible things in life, more tangible than someone claiming to commit but just as willing to admit that they don’t want to be “tied down”. I love it when you flatter me with such empty compliments that I dazed within your presence, droning me to sleep more than a lullaby ever could. Every other professional singer sounds horse; screechy and more obnoxious, like a record scratching against the needle. Only because I heard your loud voice, softer and flowier like the instrumentals of a screaming guitar slowed down.