I really want to sleep early because I still have a report to submit first thing in the morning but I want to want to write too. I want to let all the bottled up feelings out. I need to. I need to find the right words and start to be okay again. I don’t care if you would no longer get to read my tomfoolery. I just need to let it all out.


I have blamed you way too often for your indecision and cowardice. I know, you’re not solely at fault. It was the same indecision that made us suffer. It was my vulnerability that lead us to this too. I swear to God — I try. I try my best to be the better person, to make the right choices, but all my attempts are overshadowed by my vulnerability. I succumb to the temptation of letting you farther in my life, and my idiocy of not letting go despite the known fact that you are not meant to stay.

You tell me every time that I should stop putting words into your mouth, that I should stop preempting. I badly want to take a chance on you except that you don’t. I mean, sure you’ll say you’re willing to risk everything but action speaks louder than words, I guess? The fact that you still linger — acting as if nothing happened — that fucking hurts.

I admitted to you how I am still into him. That after a year, I still miss him. Somehow. Not exactly the way things were but somehow, I want to confine myself into the old familiar embrace. I want to hear his voice again. To see him smile. I want to be there for him and let him know that I still care. But I can’t. And I won’t no matter how easy it was to let all the memories I have shoved to the deepest parts of my brain resurface. I won’t, not because I simply can’t but because even if the circumstances allow us, it would be suicide to walk back to the water when the waves aren’t in my favour.

You’re in the same boat. We’ve agreed on that. Except that I have purposefully steered away from my past. I have decided not to go back. I have contented myself in your presence. See, that’s the thing. It’s your presence I have contented myself into — not your existence. When you’re not around, when we’re not talking, that’s when the instability starts to manifest itself.

I have asked you one thing — to be honest. However I realise now that you can’t be honest to me if you’re not being honest to yourself. I want to stop being lured to your most likely empty promises. I want to stop growing accustomed to you — us, or whatever we can call what’s going on between us. I want us to clearly define the boundaries, to set expectations, because I am done getting hurt. I am tired of being let down. I want to be happy knowing that when I wake up, the person that I pour my soul into is still there. Not like this — waking up on a rainy day and breaking down. Scrambling for my phone waiting for a message that wouldn’t come because I am not your priority despite what you make me want to believe. Maybe before I was. But that’s the thing about reciprocating — we always tend to be complacent. We retire all our efforts because we got what we want and we’re damn sure it’s going to be tough for them to get out. A part of you has gone back to someone else and I understand you. I understand even if I disagree.

I am no longer blaming you for your indecision. I am just letting you know that I am hurt. That after everything, you do have an effect on me. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, I am not yet numb. Not ready to commit yes, but I am not numb. I still feel. I still get hurt. I still can care. And that maybe, for whatever it’s worth, I can still love you with the little amount of love that I can give. I hope you remember that I am here — still waiting for you to respond, to tell me to get the hell out of your life, or maybe simply waiting for you to be honest and say that “hey, this is all I can give and I’m sorry about that”. And if you decide not to come back, know that I will forever be thankful that we have crossed paths. You have taught me that no matter how temporary things are, no matter how impossible they may seem, it’s always worth risking — even just for the learning. Even just for the temporary feeling.