This is me being stupid.

I made a huge mistake.

I viewed ’his’ pictures in Friendster.

And now my heart is filled with an interminable sense of longing. Fudge.

I still miss him. It’s so hard not to, especially when he could make me laugh like no one else could. Everytime he tells me some stupid joke, he would illicit a laugh from me that would sound so different than if the same joke was delivered by another person. Sometimes, he makes me laugh even without telling a joke.

But one thing I should always remember: that he hurt me more than he made me laugh.

Sometimes I really feel like dying when I remember just how I can’t be with him. How he doesn’t want me to be with him.

Most of the time, I really am ok. Sometimes I don’t care anymore, because it was the past and I’m over that. I am over that. I have forgiven what was not asked to be forgiven and I have forgotten what was never acknowledged in the first place. But still, this flutter of unnerving sadness creeps when you aren’t looking, making you remember things that could have happened, making you wish you did things just a slightly bit different. But all of these happen only in your mind, and somehow, someone will come to jar you out of your momentary reverie, to the land of the living.

***********

Akh. This is one totally infuriating game.  For one thing, you will be forced to admit that you have an IQ to that of Paris Hilton, and then the only thing you will be able to see afterwards are bouncing balls on paddles.

***********

Oh my garcsh.

Crush is too sweet.

I don’t want to fall. That would be the biggest folly ever.  In fact, I don’t want to fall ever again. I’d really rather have Paris Hilton’s brain.

~ by denice on 30 November, 2006.