I’ve been told, on so many different occasions, to “google” whatever it is that I have trouble with. To google answers for my questions, quick solutions for my everyday problems, basically anything I need help with. There’s nothing one can’t google, I’d always assume. Only that when I get too dependent on the internet, I often find it hard to work through things that no one has clear answers for.

Sometimes I wish I can google how to stop those perfectly thought-of responses from popping into my head, way after the conversation is over. I understand my mind feels paralyzed with the intensity of certain situations, but sometimes, I wish I didn’t have to recall every single sentence after the interaction is over. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know I’m capable of sounding different when I’m not anxious, because what is the use of this side of me if I can’t bring it to life when I need it?

Sometimes I wish I can google why I still keep seeing that one person in every face I come across, even though it’s been years since we’ve last talked, since we’ve last felt anything towards one another, since I last got the closure I’d been longing for, and since we’d last been in the same country at the same time. It doesn’t seem to matter that the setting is one I know they’d never be spotted in, I still see them. And I wish I can google how to continue on with my day, as if my mind hadn’t been setting up traps for me all the way.

Sometimes I wish I can google my impatience about the future, even though my past and my present have already given me plenty of stories to tell on how everything eventually falls into place, without me having anything to do with it. Sometimes I wish I can save the feeling of contentment I experience after every hardship’s over, so that maybe I can look it up later when I no longer have access. When it starts feeling like I’ll never get close to anything like it. Sometimes I wish I can google ways to stop being so harsh on myself every time I realize I’m not learning my lesson, especially when I keep thinking I’ve mastered the art of self-talk.

Sometimes I wish I can google how someone really feels about me, without having to come up with reasons that would make it sound less of a rejection. I wish google could tell me when it’s really not me, and when it’s not them either, but how could it, when it’s only able to define hearts in terms of contractions and chambers? How could it, when it continues to watch me type in questions on why I’ll never be good enough for almost everything I’ve ever wanted, without caring to explain that in a few more days, I’ll realize I never even wanted them.

Sometimes I wish I can google how to stop apologizing when someone bumps into me, because it’s not about them but rather about how I seem to not mind when people walk all over me. I still find it easier to say sorry for things I haven’t even done just to avoid conflict, yet the word feels a lot heavier when I’m the one at fault.

I wish I can google if I’ll ever stop making plans that I feel like cancelling right after. I wish I can google what to do every time I realize I’m only nervous-laughing, for ever since I was able to give it a name, it’s only been happening way louder. I wish I can google how to stop waiting for texts I know I'm never receiving, without sounding pathetic. I wish I can google why I still feel ashamed of so many pieces of me that I keep thinking I’ve already accepted.

There’s always more than I wish I can simply look up, but when I type those thoughts in, google hardly ever admits it doesn’t know. It just keeps asking if I, maybe, meant something different. It gives all kinds of suggestions, instead of accepting, that sometimes, some questions, aren’t meant to have an answer.