Sunday, February 16, 2020


Cherophobia is the fear of being happy. Sounds crazy, right? Why would anyone be afraid of the feeling that everyone else seems to be chasing all their lives? I'll tell you why. Because every time I feel happy - like genuinely, truly, and purely happy - things come crashing down soon thereafter and the unhappiness that follows the former happiness feels like a bottomless pit of nothingness.

Right now, I am happy. Genuinely, truly, and purely happy. I wake up every morning with a smile on my face and go to bed with a silly grin. And it's all because of you. You who I met on a night of takas, tequila, and tickets. You who I've been keeping an eye out for during nights under neon lights. You who once vanished without a trace and suddenly popped up again in an unexpected yellow world.

I smile to myself whenever I hear songs with lyrics that match my heart's current state. My heart skips a beat when I hear the all too familiar tone of a new message - a tone that I now only associate with you. I get excited when you drink at night because I know the clinginess will eventually settle in and you'll want to call and talk to me before going to bed.

Above all things, my heart is calm and at peace. Thanks to your consistency and your honesty, there is no fear of pain. Thanks to your patience and your efforts, there is no fear of heartbreak. There is no worry that you will vanish one day without a word because I know that even if things fall apart, you'll be man enough to explain why.

I don't kid myself, of course. I know there are other women out there who could easily win you over - women who are closer in proximity, who are more accessible, who are easier to woo, and who aren't an insecure pain in the ass.

But you are the only person who can make me laugh like a little girl - loudly, hysterically, until I can no longer breathe. You are the only person I have opened up to without being judged and without being called names. You calm my mind and my soul, and you genuinely make me feel better.

I live for the kisses you plant on my forehead when you think I'm asleep, and the way you look at me when you don't know I can see you looking out of the corner of my eye. I love how easy and how comfortable it is to be around you. How I don't have to second-guess what I want to do. I get to hug you when I want to, grab your hand when I want to, and plant kisses on your cheeks when I want to without worrying about scaring you away.

I live for the words of inspiration you send my way when I'm having a bad day and the words of encouragement you give when I need them the most. I love how you let me go out and you let me drink, but you also make sure I know when it's time go home, whether it be because I'm starting to have trouble texting you back properly or I've already sent you a slew of angry messages for no real reason. And you do this without actually expecting me to. You let me be my own person and you never make me feel bad about myself.

My friends have pointed out the changes in me with a bit of annoyance but also with a bit of pride. Who knew that someone could tame this Hulk? This Hulk who used to lie to her exes about going out. This Hulk who would take pictures in bed before going out and then send those pictures to her exes at midnight - drunk off of her mind - pretending she was in bed and about to sleep? (Yes, I was that person.) This Hulk who would stay at bars until 10 in the morning even though she wasn't having that much fun just because of the FOMO.

Shoutout to K-Swiss Philippines for my new favorite white kicks!

Still, the cherophobia has kicked in and I now live with trepidation that all of it will be taken away soon. I find myself smiling and then telling myself to stop because the worse is yet to come. I want to double up on meds and shut out the thoughts - which I do sometimes - because the truth is: I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose this. And, as selfish as it's gonna sound, I don't want to lose this version of myself. 제발 떠나 지마.

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