Wednesday, May 18, 2011


The sun sets and the sky turns a deep shade of pink. The birds fly over my head, heading to a place they call home. There's a light breeze teasing the loose strands of hair across my face. The moon's getting brighter by the second.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The tears have dried, the wounds are bandaged, and my heart's finally beating again. The pain's almost gone - it's just a dull reminder now. Everything that used to be doesn't matter anymore. My dreams of an "us" is now a distant memory.
I even manage a tiny smile.

Some people end up with the ones they fall in love with. But some don't. We can't all be the exception. Not everyone's life becomes a love story. Some of them are meant to last while others fade away. Heart breaks are more common than I thought they were. And for once, I'm average too.

I'm not the exception. We are two different people with two different stories. Mine's just not happened yet.

Friday, May 6, 2011


I lay in bed with my eyes wide open.

I can't sleep because you seem to have made yourself a priority in my head.

Things you said, your expressions, our fights, our conversations, the way you looked at me, the way you smell, the way your hair feels - they all stroll across my mind.

I turn to my side, desperate to change what I'm thinking about.

But I have no luck. You're still on my mind. Your I-love-you texts flash across my eyes.

I miss you. I miss the comfort we shared. Maybe I screwed up by telling you that I was in love with you - and now, I regret it every minute of everyday.

I lay on my back and sigh. I think of the Saturday morning conversations, the times when we had conversations with our eyes, the secret texts, the concerned phone calls.

And then the tears start. The big lump in my throat melts and the tears fall, staining my pillow.

I don't want the apartment with yellow bathroom tiles. I don't want twin babies. I don't want arguments over dinner. I don't want to ride behind you in your bike as you drop me off to work every morning. I don't even want to wake up every morning to see your face. I don't want you to make me tea.

I want you to make pervy jokes in an attempt to disgust me. I want you to put your arm around me just so that no one else does. I want you to send me random I-love-you texts. I want you to call me on Saturday morning and discuss morning hormonal changes. I want you to tell me how you'll kick any guy who tries to get close to me.

I want you back. I want us back.