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Showing posts with label Leaving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Leaving. Show all posts



I’m filled with emptiness. I’m laughing, talking, eating, sleeping, writing, but that’s all I do. I have nothing to look forward to, I feel like I’m losing my best friend and I try not to be sad about it. I try so hard, my heart cannot take it. I know I will never lose him, but I can’t have him too. He is there, but almost never here. I want to feel like I matter, like I mattered before. I want to matter to me. I want to know who I am. I want to fall asleep and dream of a better life, and never wake up.  I think I’m losing myself. 

I want to know what it feels like  to be a stronger person. 


No Goodbyes here.

In all honesty I told him today wasn’t as exhilarating as I had anticipated it to be. I’m yet to receive his reply. I didn’t tell him how I wish to drive on an unending highway with sad songs playing all throughout; it would give him wrong signals about my feelings. But I tell you here, Please bear with me.

Sometimes I wonder how it feels like to just leave. Not have to say a teary goodbye to anyone or live in fear of never seeing them again. To lose someone momentarily is just as bad as losing them forever, don’t you think? I am afraid it’s not something I can do and perhaps it could be an unwise decision later. But what I am more afraid of is that he might be capable of the very same thing. Gone. Poof.


Going Away.

I sat on the floor abruptly without noticing the scissors slip out of my slim fingers. The childish sketch of mine stuck on the card waiting to dry and the pink beads half stuck on the sides, forgotten. Two nights ago, a lot of things changed. The way I felt in that moment, I still do. It circulates like the blood in my veins, at the back of my mind.I didn’t know there were so many things more to know about him when we both moved here to this dead city, which gave us so much life in return. Not that I wasn’t happy to discover all over again. I’d never know how he smells like in the mornings, how the fish he prepares tastes just like my Mother’s, how he watches the news every day. All these things I’d never know if we were just our 16 and 17 year old self back in our little town.

Now I wake up in the morning and suddenly it hits me, everything’s going to be different. It’s like sitting on a time bomb counting the days for it to explode and I know I’m not going to die but the wound will impair me all the same. I think I should pray but I don’t. I’m sitting here trying to find the reasons why I’m so afraid when I shouldn’t be. I’m wondering how I should begin telling you about it. I’ve told him I’m getting drunk on his birthday.