unfiltered.

I swore to myself I would never write about you again.

Why would I, you never even read it. At this point I’m not sure you even know this page exist. This virtual shrine that I dedicated to you. I swore I would never write again, yet here I am.

I’m not holding on, but I’m not moving on either. How would someone move on? I’m only learning to live a life that doesn’t have you in it. I’m learning to wake up in mornings without your texts. I’m learning to let go of the dreams of cooking for you and curling up in bed all weekends with you. I’m learning to forget a future of me waking up next to you and make coffees for you. Like I said, I’m not moving on; I’m merely getting on with this life.

I have to be honest that I need company. This life feels too lonely for me to be by myself. I love you, I always do; but how can I get through this uncertainty of should I wait or leave? You’re too selfless to make me wait so you never asked me to, so I won’t. I’m not waiting around, I’m living my life where I am, I’m working on myself, and hoping to God that someday we’ll meant to be with each other. You’re still a dream come true for me. And you’re such a good person, unlike me. I know I don’t deserve even a little bit of you, yet I can’t lie that I wished you’d still love me despite so.

But then again I’m not a good person. I’m one of the world’s greatest liar for acting like I could ever moved on. Acting like I could ever be in love with another man. I played the part so good I might convinced anyone that I’ve moved on. But when late night came, when he held me in his sleep, I shed tears that belongs to you; like a part of my heart always will. When he hugged me, I felt you. When he kissed me, I wished I tasted you. When he touched me, I wished it was you. He was meant to be a distraction; a sweet sin to help me forget you. In his arms I drowned and pretend I’m over you. In his eyes I melted and searched for you. In his presence I reminisced the feeling of falling in love with someone that wasn’t you. My clothes and hair smelled like another man yet I’m crying over how much I miss you. Because he’s not you. Nobody will ever be quite like you. I still want you, but I keep filling this space with another; wishing he was you. But he’s not; nobody is.

I wish I could vanquished all this memories of you, even though there’s not much; and maybe I only fall in love with a version of you that I created in my mind so that’s why it’s really hard to let go. Will we ever get to be together again, I don’t know. Will our paths ever cross again, I have no idea. This time it would be pure God’s business. If He wants us to cross path, He’d make it happen. I don’t want to force it. I don’t want to make plans or think too much ahead. Not this time. I’m tired of making things work or forcing you to want me back. I can’t force you to love me just because still do. I can’t force you to miss me because I fucking do. I can’t force you to forgive me for being with someone else. Because this time I know I really, really don’t deserve you. Because this time, if after this you’d grow to despise me, I have to be okay with that.

So if after this you’d really close the chapter on us, then maybe I really should stop writing about you.