end.

End.

Maybe I used to believe I'd never feel strongly, crazily enough to want this. It was something I just couldn't imagine myself wanting, I reflected when I gazed inside me and saw what I thought was my heart in bare honesty. That's what I believed, before I discovered how emotions truly worked, how little control I actually held over what and who they chose.

Then, maybe I used to believe there'd be no problem in parting, because any bond I entered would be simple enough for me to disentangle myself from. That’s how I thought my life would go eventually. That's what I believed before I met someone whom I could not simply leave, the way I swore I could before.

When the ball ends and the clock strikes twelve, turn away, turn so he cannot see you, and say goodbye. No smile. Race down the glittering staircase with the night in your wings. Not another glimpse, not another song. Leave no glass shoe to find you by.

Maybe I used to think that, on that last night before we parted ways, it would be so easy for me to say "it's alright" and maybe even "good luck with life" and let him slip away without my heart tearing to pieces.

And I would go my own way. The doors would pass, the doors all around me. And the lights would dim behind as the double-doors grew further, the sounds of young women and men drinking themselves crazy upon stories even sadder than my own. As my footsteps echoed down a corridor too hollow to breathe in.

How silly, now--it's barely begun! I don't even know if we'll be together till then.

But I feel we will. And let's say we do.

And then I wonder, who will hurt more?

End. Sometimes it's better that way. Sometimes it's the only way. Hope as we might, in the colour of stars unfathomable distances away, sometimes a bond must be broken so new ones can form. Holding on too hard is only going to make it hurt even more.

This is not a fairy tale. Sometimes the stories fool you to think there is more hope in the world than there really is, than can ever be. They fool you to believe you can change even an iota of it.

I would leave for university somewhere. Learn to draw houses larger than any I'd ever own. Learn to write symphonies I couldn't play. It would all end when that day was past, when 12 midnight soared by in the night rain and the curtains finally closed. I don't know where he'll go. I'm afraid to wonder. But it will end, without exception. Too vast a distance in between.

But then, I can't stop hoping.

Maybe I used to think I could tear myself from a relationship without destroying a part of myself with it. Well, now I know I can't. I wait and keep quiet inside myself because I can't let this affect the life of the present. I wait and hope, and only speak of it in the silence of written words, in corners like this where it's safe and not so painful. But then it lingers, this denial, this fear that never goes away.

The tears still come.

testing: first blogpost via email

So if this works, that's great. Blogging on my phone via the blogger dashboard is such a pain...

I feel so sick inside my heart...I feel like I just swallowed a bottle of poison...I feel like vomiting it all out, but my throat is clamped shut...

Time ticks away. Too little time. Won't someone just give me a definite answer before I fall apart again?

last sentence

I know that saying this is allowing myself to be completely vulnerable...but I love you. I really do.

another small thought

So life is the pendulum it has always been. A pendulum that can't stop swinging. Even when it comes to turbulence or fire or sunlight. It arrives at its lows and swoops to its highs, but ultimately it doesn't grow any heavier nor any lighter, only slower and slower and less and less--wild. Until it stops.

Well then, it seems I'd be glad to terminate it as soon as I can, this grating monotony of joy and sorrow interchanging. This life. So simple, really. I have the means. Why experience the joy when with it also comes equal sorrow?

Yet I don't: for fear of the ultimate pain, for guilt, for the ones who will cry when I go...

Isn't biding against the frost worthwhile, if I can know how it feels to bask in the sun? Maybe it's better to live through both than not to live. Maybe it's no better. But then it doesn't matter because I have already been given this chance, to live. I will not abandon it.

And though it's wearying and though every swing of the pendulum scars me more irreversibly, I can take that first step out into the grey morning, and proudly and simply say: this life is brilliant, and I will hold onto it as tightly as I can.

And I shall not regret what was never meant to be. I shall not long for what will never return.

The right way was never the way I expected it to be.

This is how it was always meant to be, from the very start.Not the shallow infatuation I thought it was meant to be till now. It's a deep and certain friendship, not unlike the one I share with my best friend--one that eventually grows to be more and become precious. It's time for me to wait, and take things slow. Build the friendship up from the bottom. Spend the time on it that I would have spent on my other friends'. I'm getting used to knowing that love is not about your heart thumping and his smile making you shiver. I'm getting used to knowing that love is need without glamour, not that titillating want. I'm getting used to the fact that I will no longer feel a thrill at the sight of his face, or that I will not shy away from him when he turns to me. It's like a stab from a cold knife, every time I remember the extraterrestrial joy of that period of time. But that is not love. And that is not the reason I longed for the relationship.