Pussy, n.:

There are times that we are afraid to move forward. Times that we just want to remain seated in the past. Times that we bury ourselves together with the tragic memories. I would love to say it's normal for us to feel sorry about our lives. To feel sorry about the things that we need to leave behind but actually can't--that little by little, start to define who we are in the present. I really think it's fine to feel sad about something, but it's not always like that. It must not always be like that, because sadness is not the answer. Although sometimes somehow it helps. But I guess, the only way to solve a problem is not to think there is a problem.

I just had a serious break-up with my girlfr. It was a real pain. It was tragic. She used to be my world, and I don't know if I used to be hers too. But I guess it doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, my love for her wasn't any kind of love I would give to anybody else. She's so special. And I felt special everytime I was with her. Honestly, I don't know what made me feel special. And mostly, I lack certainty if I was really special. All I know is I trusted her way too deep and too much even though Trust with a capital "T" is not something I give for free, and all I cared about was to make her feel happy and lucky to be mine. Sadly, the love we shared together got shattered into pieces because of something we are both uncertain. And just because of that, we're now looking at each other like complete strangers in the dark.

After our curtain fell and closed, I wear nothing but a fake smile. Well, it's not really fake. It's just that whenever I smile or laugh, at the back of my mind I know I am not genuinely happy. And I do this because I don't want anyone to know I'm in trouble. I don't want to bug someone out because of my miseries. It's my problem, and so I'll be the one to solve it. But sometimes I think it's kind of unfair to my part, because I always try my best to fix someone else's agony. On the other hand, I don't want to look at it that way. I just want to help everyone, and also be the one to help myself. It's my choice, anyway. I choose to be tough. But this toughness is about to crack up now. It's like in the middle of the morning, the sun would say hello through the window, as if it has something good to offer. But before I could move a limb or even a strand of my hair, I wouldn't help to ask God why he let me wake up again. I know I'm too young to think about these kinds of stuff, but pain doesn't choose age. It strikes when it rains. Just like a thunder.

I'm trying so hard to move forward and leave the past, but the cycle keeps on spinning, leading me to a roundtrip: I get hurt, I cry, I stop crying, I smile, I try to live and be happy again, and then I get hurt for another time. No matter how hard I try to accept the fact that she's not coming back anymore, that our love is not going to be the way it was before, that I will soon try to be with another girl--and she will too, I still can't let go of the happy memories we created. I'm still holding on to the hopes of our once perfect relationship to be that perfect couple again. Most of the time, I convince myself I'm alright. But everytime I stand in front of the mirror, all I see is pain. It is painful. Very painful. And the pain is the kind of pain that doesn't make sense anymore. It keeps striking my insides. And I feel like I'm going to collapse because nothing's left inside me. It's slowly eating me every single day, and it's really gibberish.

I admit I was not a good boyfr. There were times I failed to show her what she wanted to see, to tell her what she needed to hear, and to make her feel what she must feel. And I am sorry for that. Really. Seriously.  And I also know it's too late for that. I was just scared. I'm a pussy. But that doesn't mean I didn't love you for real.


Fuck!


I used to be my own soldier, but I guess I can't save myself forever.
I need you.

I miss you. So much.