I Wear My Heart on My Sleeve

"Aren't you afraid that you'd be rejected?" 
I hear this line often from my friends when I am about to confess to someone that I like them. I was always that kind of girl. The kind that sets her heart out in the open for people to walk on yet never regrets doing it. I would always nonchalantly confess my feelings then and there. I believe that I should live in the moment for tomorrow is never certain.

I have been rejected a lot of times, well for the record, I always was. I have been viewed as too daring, too straighforward, too sure, too desperate. But really, what's wrong with being honest? What's wrong with being sure of my feelings?

Why is it not "conventional" or "socially acceptable" for girls like me to make the first move instead of boys? Can't I say my feelings whenever I want? Can't I speak my mind? Don't I have a voice?

The idea of a girl making the first move irks a lot and I don't know why; it has become a social stigma.

When I was a kid, the media has been a window that exposed my eyes to reality and as mediocre as it could get, boys were always the initiators, never girls.

Most of the boys I liked, distanced themselves from me since I was too sudden, too dauntless of a heart for them. I was too much to handle.

But I always knew it in me that whatever may become of me after all this love I am trying to give around, all this pieces of me I am sharing to those I deem worthy, I will never lose my capacity to love nor lose my depth in giving it.

I am in love with the idea of being in love.

And pain, years of unending rejection, toxic retorts from guys, never ending pain, never stopped me from giving out my feelings and my thoughts.

Although, some times are tough and it could get tiring, I'll recoil and get back on my feet; ready to wear my heart on my sleeve again.

I do not take love for granted; I value it too much that I see everybody as worthy of receiving it, let alone, feeling it even if at times, none deserves it.

Somehow, I grew as a writer because of the countless heartbreaks and rejections that I have endured. I have lost count on how many times I've confessed to guys that I like them, head on.

In anyway, the world may break me, reduce me to rubble, slather me with pain, pounce on me like a hurricane, I will forever and always love without a doubt; love the kind of love that lights up the darkest places. The kind that makes imperfection a peripheral notion, the kind that sets the world free from thoughts that constrain the soul.

I wear my heart on my sleeve because l can; loving throughout the uncertainty of it all made me who I am.

I have been beaten to the seams and rocked and thrown everywhere because of my benevolence. I never knew loving could hurt; I only thought of it as a substance so potent--everyone that feels it levitates away from the world and is brought to another place, an ethereal place.

No matter what, I just loved, and I guess nothing is ever beautiful than that.