Speaking of work, I'd like to tell you to get some sleep. I'd get mad that you're still up at 4AM and nag you to go to bed. You'd think that I don't understand that you need to work, but I'd just be worried about your health.
And since you're not exactly the picture of health, I'd like to come over when you inevitably get sick. I'd make you soup (instant chicken noodles with an egg) and give you medicine and water. I'd snuggle beside you under a blanket and kiss your feverish forehead. You'd push me away and hoarsely tell me off ("Mahahawa ka! Ano ba?"), but I'd roll my eyes and curl up against you anyway, and you'd secretly love me more for it.
Obviously, you know I don't cook, but I'd like to make you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, too. You'd drive me crazy with your backseat cooking, but I'd try to not scream at you when you tell me I'm chopping the onions wrong (they're fucking onions, how many proper ways could there be to chop them?!). Eventually, I'd get upset, and you'll end up doing the cooking and we'll eat the meal in huffy silence—
—or I could, you know, dial 8-6236 and order McDonald's, save us both the trouble.
But above all, I'd like to be there for you when you're blue. I'd like to call you to try and cheer you up, maybe sing you a song or tell you about my day to get your mind off yours. Buy you ice cream, sit down, and talk it out. Or when you really don't want to talk, I'd just rest my head on your shoulder, just to let you feel like you're not alone.
You've been looking out yourself for so long. Maybe you think you'd never catch a break.
You've been looking down on yourself so much. Maybe you think you're not worth caring for.
But if you'd let me, I'd like to take care of you.
Photo source: http://weheartit.com/entry/25665878
