Eww... tama k na boi
It is currently Wednesday, 12:07 AM. I have just overcome Tuesday, May 12, 2026—this hell week's most brutal day of all. I should be celebrating or, at the very least, focusing on my next upcoming exams and deadlines. However, I have found myself sitting here, staring at nothing, feeling empty and paralyzed. I don't know. To be honest, though, I think it is most likely because I have been dreading my stupid little crush on one of my professors to the point that I have literally resorted to praying to God to end this semester fast (I am an agnostic). I mean, he is too old. He is unattainable. He probably never noticed me at all. And even if he did, nothing would happen.
But desire has never cared much for reason; the heart is embarrassingly illiterate in the language of practicality. Every time I think about the age gap, I just sigh in contempt because I know both of us would never engage in such... what do you even call it... a sin? At the same time, however, he is the only man who has made me feel this way—my heart skips a beat every time I even dare to take my chance and look at that god-forsaken gorgeous face of his. Then, it would get so hard to breathe; it would feel like my lungs are burning when I see him already looking at me... was he? Or maybe at the pretty girl behind me. I don't know. But every time, I would also avert my eyes, afraid that if I had given myself a chance to stare and admire even just a little bit longer, I would never be able to stop gawking like a child craving for sweets but forbidden to have one. So, I would look at his arms. Tattoos. (God, that’s so cool.) At the movement of his hands when he spoke. At the car keys hanging on his belt loop. On the floor. Shoes. At my notes, pretending to write while my brain dissolved into complete mush, rendering me incapacitated.
Sometimes, I would feel like a creep for noticing him too much. I don't want him to think I am objectifying or lusting over him. And I would hate being in his class, unable to perform as I want to because of his presence. But as soon as I come out of the room, I would feel this longing to go back, stay, and listen to him talk a little more. This would go on for days; his image would not leave my mind, and I would resent myself for thinking that way. He is too old, I would remind myself again and again. He is probably married, with children. But I don't see a ring. Gay? Damn right. He is not into me—he will never be with someone who is barely an adult.
This is crazy; I hope this semester ends soon so this silly little crush phase of mine will vanish, and I will finally be able to function again like a normal human being. And it did. And now that the subject of my limerence is gone, I feel like I am going through withdrawal, and I don't know what to do moving forward but write about it, let it die, and bury it oh so deep that no one—not even myself someday—will know it ever existed.
Daddy issues amp*tah grr