Mixed signals. False hopes. Either it’s me reading too much into your actions, or you’re intentionally leading me on. Or maybe it’s the third possibility – again, you didn’t know you were doing what you do to me. You were always naive, dense, oblivious and clueless.

What a load of crap.

Another post for you. We’re back at it again, aren’t we?

It’s not a lie, really, when I tell people that I’m not, or at least, no longer emotionally invested in you. In fact , I could thank you for not wanting me. You made me want myself.

But you’re dragging me into this state of confusion. Again. Am I trapped in the labyrinth again?

I’m not going to lie.

Sometimes I still think about how things could have been if I decided to change earlier. But then what you did to me was what urged this change, so it could lead to the same terminal anyhow. But then you could still change your mind and go back, couldn’t you? Even if this change came a little too late, maybe you’re not too late to change things on your side?

You can go back, can’t you? Maybe if you choose me now, you could still do something. Maybe we could make it work. Maybe I’d no longer have to look for someone else to share everything we didn’t with. Maybe we’d be better together. Maybe this is the right thing. Maybe we were right together. Maybe finally, you’d realize I was what you needed. Not her.

Not her.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

This is disgusting. These embarrassing and selfish feelings are beginning to surface again, and this is really, really, really, disappointing me. Pathetic, isn’t it, how I could conceive of things that way when I’ve been claiming to the heavens that I couldn’t be happier where I am now? You’re making me selfish and greedy, you know. And I don’t know if having these kind of feelings are enough to render me unmoved and apparently, still consumed by my thinly veiled desire to still possess you.

I don’t know. I could only think of it as an unfinished business, because there were no words.

It was a silent story. A story without an audience but ourselves.

I vaguely grasped what was happening, and maybe you did too.

But there were no words.

I didn’t know what I was to you, but maybe you knew what you were to me.

And it ended, right there. I hung suspended on the unknown.

Was it too late, was it too soon?

But it’s okay. Because I am okay now.


Think about it again.

You can still go back. You can choose me now. You could still do something. You can still try to make us work. We could still share everything I wished we did before now. We can still be better together, as better forms of our old selves.

But maybe I won’t go back. Maybe I won’t choose you anymore.

Because finally, I realized,

you’re not what I needed.


For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse.

So collapse.


This is not your destruction.

This is your birth.

– N.T.


Somehow at this point, I’ve finally found my resolve.

Over the course of about a lifetime, I’ve never been really happy about the romantic aspect of my life. At least not absolute. I’ve never entered a relationship, and I’ve never actually discussed my status with someone. Perhaps it was partly because I’m too egotistic to be the one to bring that sort of thing up, and partly because I’m afraid that would immediately put an end on a seemingly beginning of something unknown. Or unsure. So I guess I’m stopping here. Not that I was looking for The One all my life (seriously that’s stupid and delusional), it’s just that I’ve been endlessly hoping that things would work out. That things could work themselves out. Because if things would be, they’d be. Let the chips fall where they may they say. And similar cliched crap.

That was a dumb thing to believe in.

I know, I know. I don’t know what lies ahead but it’s all in my hands. I decide my fate. And if I won’t do anything nothing would come out of this. But I’m a fool. I don’t know what to do. Initially I thought I did. I believed I did. And people believed me too and listened to my advices. Ironically things worked out on their end, though it wasn’t guaranteed it’ll be well long enough. But in my case it didn’t.

Well after all I always gave myself the opposite advice.

And should I vindicate that, I only know that still, I’m afraid. I am a coward. A big coward. I’m stuck in my past and I chose to be there. I chose to be there because in the past, albeit the pain and sufferings, I was happy. Not to mention temporarily happy. It was the lone thing that worked. She was the lone person who openly and genuinely returned my feelings, the lone person who made me feel requited.

I shouldn’t have included her case. But anyway, I figured that any kind of romantic relationship isn’t for me. I mean that commitment thing. What a joke.

And maybe I’m happier without a partner. With just, being thisjust like this. Enjoying my own company and my friends. Being fruitful in different fields.

I’d shun anything that provokes feelings. God forbid I engage into any friendship with someone I’d end up liking.

Not again.

I will never become a fool again.