I wonder how much fake I am? I know I am one, might be the most fake person here. No spontaneity. Never.
I know deep under that i wanted to talk about her. I wanted to lighten the burden. Perhaps in one dark corner, I wanted her to help. To help release the pain. or maybe heal it. Maybe even make fate turn on its way, turn around, come back and lift me on its shoulders. Suddenly transform me to some other dimension where everything is alright.
How poignant such dreams are. Because one thing i have definitely learnt in life is how shallow dreams are. How impossible it is to make them into reality. How helpless you are. And I am still in a process of learning the compromise. Of abandoning concepts like hope. and it is an excruciating task.Losing hope. Forgetting is easier.
What do these tears even mean? After a while ago, maybe even hours, I am sure taht I would be telling myself how immature I have been, how stupid and fake I've been. I will tell myself to be strong and move ahead.
I am such a conniving guy. I fucking did want to talk to her about her. Yet I masked myself.
I should see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Or maybe Vanilla Sky. yes. thats so close to what I've been feeling. I created a memory of her yesterday. I want it to develop in some parallel world where everything is alright. where She'll not disappear right in front of me. And I wont be here.in my room. In tears.contemplating what life is.I dont want to jumping off from the top into reality.
I created a memory of her. And it will torture me for the rest of my life.
Wouldnt it be better to just die?
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