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Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. 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. 


Who said goodbyes are forever?

Last night out of sheer boredom I logged in here and re read all my posts and comments, and it dawned on me that I had been missing out on one of the very good things in my life and I hadn't even realized it.

I've been good, and bad. Life keeps happening on its own, takes its own unexpected highs and lows whenever it wants. I've been writing a journal, probably one of the many reasons of my absence here. But I promise to not leave again. Because I Love you, and I have a lot to tell. For now, let’s just start with Hello again.

BTW did I tell you I’m a sucker for nail art? What’s your guilty pleasure? 


Grieve Future, Grieve.


I don’t know what a broken heart feels like. Or maybe I do but because I feel it too often, I am incapable to differentiate it from other mere feelings of sadness or hurting. But how can sadness be just ‘mere’? Whenever I’m sad I long for an overwhelming compassion and words that are beyond the amorous movies, beyond this mortal earth. Perhaps that’s what adds to the tragedy, wanting the things I can’t have. Expectation has been my biggest let-down.

I’m afraid of the very same things that I want. Because I don’t know if it is right to want them. Happiness is best if shared, they say. But how about it when there’s nobody to share it with?

Loving someone just got uglier.


Dirty Dancing.


While the extravagant swear by their Chanel no. 5, I sit here and figure the smell of three things that I like any day; the smell of soil after the rain, the smell of food when I’m hungry, and how he smells like in the mornings.

The music blared in the club and he held me close for cosy dance. While I let loose in between and moved around, he told me I seemed different. Matured was the adjective he used. As we walked into his room later that night I could tell he was uncertain of a few thoughts in his head. Impressed, nevertheless.

I wish every Sunday mornings began in his arms after a tipsy night, but we both know familiarity breeds contempt.


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.