[it’s where you could find me when you couldn’t find me anywhere else]

Post before signing off.

They’re right. I’m constantly denying the truth to myself. I still love you, no matter how many times you effed me up. No matter how many times you hurt me or left me or tore me into pieces. I will always have a thing for you, no matter how many guys I fall in love with. And it’s you I’m still waiting for. I hate to admit it, but I will accept you again if you just approach me, without explanations or apologies. That’s how much I freaking love you.

I act as if it’s not a big deal. I don’t like seeing myself so vulnerable to you. But sooner I’m going to fall down. It’s just a matter of time before I go into that dark cliff of depression. Before I get swallowed by self-pity. I’m not sure if you’re going to do anything about it. I don’t want to think. In thinking, I’m letting myself to expect and hope. Then I’ll just get disappointed again, for the billionth time.

I’m insisting to myself that I can move on. But knowing that you’re just a taxi away kills me. I want to be with you right now. It seems that you don’t feel the same way. I don’t know. I don’t like the thought of you being with another girl. I have this delusion that you’re mine. But yeah, I need to wake up from everything. From everything I thought was real. I need to shake away that certain feeling when you hug me or kiss me or look at me with that look.

I hope we could still be friends. I don’t know. It’s torture, but it’s better that not having you around.


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