Monday, February 22

Are you sleeping? — at 2.25 AM.

You and your goddamn words keep me up at night and they still haunt me in my sleep. I woke up today with your name popped up on my front screen. Fuck. What now? I don’t know, I don’t know how you find your way back. I stopped waking up in the middle of the night for the last few weeks. I was recovering, I was fixing myself. Literally fixing my body clock after you left me hanging with no late night calls, those middle of the night texts and morning routines I had to call you for morning classes. I recovered, not entirely recovered but the fact that I am recovering on my own by avoiding to meet your eyes on a daily basis and those mornings we had to bump into each other, and like a coward, I ran away. 

I miss you, I’ve missed you a lot for someone who was never truly mine. But that was not the thing. You were never mine to start with. For the last few weeks you left, I have been having serious conversations with myself — do I have a crush on you or am I just lonely? Do I like you or do I like that you like me? Do I like you or do I like the idea of you? Do I want to be in a relationship or do I just want to prove that I’m worthy of one? Do I like you or have I been emotionless for too long? Do I want you or do I just want to own you? These silly conversations took me on 2 hour long bus ride to somewhere far for me to evaluate everything back. Two road-trips for me to forget the feelings I have for you, two road-trips where you actually fetch me on your car — oh the twisted irony we had. Just like a metaphor you were sending me away to find myself back, and I did.

But I guess I was alright. I didn’t feel the sting when you pat me this morning when we bumped into each other. I acted as if I was fine and bubbly when you sat beside me looking at my pile of work on my table to help. I’m fine. Well, I’m not fine as in fine, but I’m fine as in you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I didn’t feel the blood rush when you said something cheesy in front of everybody who was there, I couldn’t feel anything anymore. I think that’s what people could do to you, wore you out until you feel bland about everything around you. I don’t know if it was something you did or something I said, but somewhere along the way we went so wrong we couldn’t make it right again.

I’m not surprised when people stop caring about me, or stop talking to me because I knew I was just too much to handle. It all made sense now — not just anyone can handle you and that’s the best part because it takes the right one to do so. That’s what Marsya keeps on repeating that night on my face. You know what I’m looking forward to now? Effort. Assurance. Show me care. That you really want me. I’m tired of doubting whether people are coming or going. Perhaps the fact that I chased a boy who ripped me to shreds says a lot more about me than it did about him. 

So here I am, sitting in my favorite Buddha posture at the corner of my bed puffing my last cigarette I have for the week, wishing that tonight will passed just like any other nights before. I am still looking forward to day where someone will look at my face and remembering my details and talk about me to strangers with glinting eyes and says — “when she laughed, god it all felt so real.” Come find me sooner, I don’t know how long I could take my two feet to go on another lonely night keeping all my darkest thoughts alone.

I don’t know if I could do this anymore.
I don’t know.