Hope

You know when you are breaking down, and you felt there’s no one you feel like you can turned to, no one you felt like running to because you had to explained to them what you’re going through, there will be too many questions coming from them and while you’re explaining about how you feel you might choke on your own tears.

That’s bad. That’s really bad. You brought this mess on your own. You need to clean it up. You need to pick yourself up. You need to suck it. You need to take it one shot and cry by yourself if it helps while it’s hurting. Until you don’t feel hurt any more.

There’s just too much sadness you’re carrying inside. Too many grudges you kept filed. You put hope on a chair and put it in a corner. You hardly talked to it or let itself be heard. You’re scared of it, you’re terrified.

You don’t believe it.

Joy

It’s sad and funny not in a good way that he’s still inside your head, on top of your mind. You don’t long for him, you don’t need him. Not that you miss him too. But you still like him, that much. Even if he were to come around eventually, he’s already a day late and a dollar short.

You will keep moving on. Soon, when you have had enough, those things will just stay inside the box. Because you do know that you deserve better and you’ll get what you deserved.

Write to forget.

Blocked

“Mr Anderson, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do nice people choose the wrong people to date?”
“Well … we accept the love we think we deserved.”

She used to be nice.

Her face keeps breaking into a smile when it really hits her enough to show some emotion. Else she only has a mild feeling, straight face. Sometimes she nods her head, moves her shoulder and sways slowly from side to side to the music when she really enjoys it.

Some notes of the music reminded her of the flashing lights, the dark room, the drinking game and when she was pushed to get up on the stage. After she lost the sexiest dance game, he came to get her down from the stage.

As many times as she has went clubbing, with the girls, for her birthdays, for other people’s birthdays, crashing other people’s parties, celebrating the new year – only that first time she went with him was the best times she ever had. She finds herself more than grateful that she did follow him that night.

But she can’t repeat the past.

Only God knows how much she wanted it. So she had the chance once again. She was happy, too happy.
She was in a private pool, in her bra and panties, matching like it’s a pair of bikini. She looked up the sky and saw the moon shining. She smiled, thinking quietly to herself, for all the hard work and long nights.

And after another shattering heartbreak, she was with him again. Happy just like that first time they spent the whole night together. She had all his attention put on her, had his arms all around her, and him playing with her hair. She likes him a lot when he's drunk. It's the only place that she wanted to be – in his arms.

And that’s all there is between the two of them. She could never have more.

Love is fine. It’s relationship that hurts.

She keeps crying. She refused to cry. It was a mistake to deny the feeling. It was a mistake to fight against the need to cry. She identified it as a weakness, she refused to accept the fact that she needed to cry to let go.

Crying is about washing the emotions away, but she was very stubborn and keep saying that she need not to cry. It is not necessary. This is not the time to cry. This is not right, it is wrong. So wrong. She’s doing okay. She’s better now. So why the need to cry?

She blocked it. She kept it at the back of her head, far, far away. She doesn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t do anything about it anymore, it already happened. It’s those times that she can never get back, can never have it repeated or have it any longer. It went to someone else. It chose someone else to have it.

She only has a memory that pained her more than made her happy or at least broke her face into a smile when she needed to visit some happy places.