accepting

my stomach was like a void.

The steamboat dinner last night left me with a larger appetite, and an empty wallet.
The morning was screwed, wasted the remnants of my money to negate a portion of my late coming.
And such preservation wasn't even required, much less deserved.
Pw lecture was a grinding mill, breaking morales and spirits.

But right now, i just want to get over and done with this.
-maybe i should've disappeared, if not because i couldnt bear loneliness.

Its lunch time, and for once, after so long, i'm without a 10 dollar note in my wallet.
Holding the hunger was like the strain from withstanding a benchpress, but what my friends do
instead added more weights to the bar.

"I can lend you money wad.." he offers.
apparently then the fear of receiving help isnt quite a common fear.
I'm not much of a giver, much less in monetary terms.
Maybe its because im guilty, maybe its because i'm proud, but the next idea, her idea, placed me in the most torturous moment yet.

"We can all chip in 50 cents for his lunch" , "Then he'll have enough!"
Imagine splitting the torment into 5, with each split not lessening.
As the heavy 50cents coins slammed onto the table, my heart ache.

I was trying to reconcile love with the pain in my heart.

Again, she worries me the most- and hurts me the most.
Amidst the pain i see her innocent smile and for awhile im convinced again that only I
speak to myself.

What's so humiliating in being honoured?
What's so sad in receiving?
What's so bad in being loved?

What's so hard to let it flow?

what's so important i can't
let
go?