I feel like writing about her, but my hands are not really willing to do that. Everytime I write a line they just automatically move to that erase button. 

That’s a lie.

I don’t want to write about her. I want to talk about myself more than her. I want to tell myself how I feel about it all and how I would tell someone if I ever have to. 

Somehow I have more words for her than I have for myself. I have more love and hate for her as compared to myself. Maybe that’s also about me. Mentioning her makes it about us and her. 

I don’t know what I really want to say her. I also know that it’s okay to say that over here because none of you really know who I am and what I am and what I was and what I’ve become along this road. 


Who knows 

I see broken people, everywhere. 

I never saw as many before. Times changed. People were considerate back then. 

I’m not that old to say that, but still the world I knew back then was different where you could only recognize happy faces and smiles. Now I just notice the sadness and darkness in a person. 

I guess it’s the self centered world. You see in people only what you see in yourself. You always heal from something and then the other part comes. You just try to find someone with the same sadness and darkness that you have inside of you. Unconsciously you just try to find a companion to sympathize to yourself through them and say the things you wish somebody had said to you when you really wanted to hear them. 

I’m no expert at this but I think that life has thrown a lot in my plate to see my face. It’s not that my life is over or something. It’s just that every person goes through a lot but nobody can actually feel what you feel in that moment and at that time. 

Making sense out of people is getting harder, with time you feel like you’re getting wiser but you’re only getting a little selfish that why you see things for yourself and not for others. I know there’s a whole new argument on this one but I’d rather not get into it. Maybe you’ll understand this after years. Or maybe I’ll be against my own statement.

Who knows? Let’s just wait and experience that too. 


I asked a friend today if its possible to extremely love a person and also hate at the same time. 

The reply I got was kinda sensible. I didn’t quite agree but it kinda made sense. That this time the love just changes the dimensions. 

Maybe it’s not the person I’m still in love with, because I imagine that person and all I can think of what They’ve done to me and my life and you know how I broken I feel. But then as odd as it sounds, I go to places and meet people and listen to music and travel (very little), I notice that everything has a memory with her and every word that people use were once what she said. That’s when I remember all those times and that’s when I smile with tears in my eyes. I guess that’s me reviving the good old memories. 

Somehow in this battle of ours, we actually forget what we were looking for and what we basically need. The more we try to run away from a person, the more the memories hit. Although I’m a stronger believer that we can’t outrun them because we built so many that they follow everywhere we go. 

I’m still at that stage where I want to be friends with my memories. I like to assume that they’ll exist no matter what so might as well come to terms with them, where they don’t hurt and just give me a reason to smile. 

As for the person, I don’t think the person who took away your smile can ever give you back what they took from you in those years. Call me pessimist but that’s how it makes sense to me. 


Why is that we always fall for someone who we know is trouble. 
Somehow only that makes sense. 
Sense of that miracle to happen with the troubles. 
Assuming that the world we made is attached with our strings. 
Life isn’t that complicated, it’s the people who make it complicated. 
It’s also the people who make it interesting. 
We’ve all assumed a life that is perfect and stable. 
But hey, where’s the fun in that? 
It’s in our nature that someday when we have stability we’d probably be sick of that too. 
Adventures and people are what make lives. 
People come and go but they teach you a lot. 
Some might leave smiles and some might leave endless scars. 
Sooner or later they do become memories. 
In the end it’s all your decision how you want to keep these memories. 
Not mine.