If you only have a way to figure out how much I missed talking to you, what would you do? To tell you honestly, I’ve been battling all the temptations inside me to drop a message in your inbox to tell all the things I wanted to say, most especially the fact that I truly and deeply missed conversing with you. You’re such a great and incredible conversationalist that I would never get tired of talking. And maybe that’s one of the million reasons why my heart started to sway in a crazy beat for you.

Yes, I missed you but I couldn’t tell it to you. I must suppress every raging emotion inside me. If I do drop a message to you, all of my closed wounds would be re-opened. And all of the long buried pains would be awoken. I don’t want that to happen. I’ve had had enough of the sorrows and miseries my feelings for you brought me. But still, I missed you. And this stupid longing of me for you allow me to feel as lonely as possible. Damn it. This is one of the thousand reasons why having feelings for someone who won’t ever see my worth is at the bottom part of my list.

I missed you. I missed the sound of your voice. I just want to see the light  and colors in your eyes when you talk. I want to see your smile. I want to be with you. But I couldn’t. And I know, I wouldn’t for the rest of my life.


There really is this kind of night when I would realize that I am lonely as fuck. All my frustrations, broken dreams, rejections and sorrows seem to agree that they would be doing their best all at the same time to make me as horrible as possible– no matter what I do, I couldn’t strangle myself out of them. And on night like this, happiness becomes elusive. You cannot find it anywhere and everywhere. Why is that? Did happiness make a deal with sadness?

I just realized, with each passing day, as I age, loneliness is easier to find than joy and delight. You would strive hard to have happiness but when it comes to loneliness? It would be effortless. It would come to you for free. It would knock onto your door without any sign and warning. Is growing up really supposed to be this way? Is it really supposed to be filled with negative emotions I’ve been trying hard to eradicate out of my system? Or is it really me? Is it really me who made it all hard from the very beginning? Or is it really me who keeps on pushing myself to my limit which would only lead to huge blows and assaults of frustrations when in fact, I could take some rest? I don’t know.

I noticed that my writings lately usually go around the whole idea of miseries, frustrations, sadness and longing. Would it still change? Would I still go back to my old writing style that it was filled with joy, hopes and positivity about life and whatever lies with it? I don’t know. Lately, I am simply lost. I am simply going with the flow of my boring and repetitious life without doing anything to turn it or to go against it. I simply don’t have any idea what to do in my life anymore.

Sadness is the root of all of this. If I could only be filled with joy and vibrancy tantamount to the happiness of kids, this could be easier. But I couldn’t as much as I wanted to; as hard as I made a pact with myself that I would start changing my outlook in life– it must be leading towards appreciation and understanding positivity and joy.

With this, I will end this stupid and senseless writing with a huge hope that everything will be alright eventually.