Come Hither.

Gerascophobia.




You know what? I did the most stupid thing one can ever imagine. I went to question the owner of that photograph. And y'know what? If I had a shotgun or whatsoever, weapons of mass destruction even, I'll blow his goddamn head off his goddamn body. Oh, you bet. I'm already starting to hate him even more. I hope he suffers from premature balding, in every hair-sprouting parts of his goddamn body! Ugh.




Actually, you're wrong. I don't really want to think about it, y'know? That whole " ... it's a new experience, just go and see how ... " Thing is, what happens then if I actually liked it?

Sigh, five months later and I still in square one. Honestly, it's really sad seeing how easily he moved on, letting go of things. He took say, a few weeks? And I, on the other hand, am incapacitated. Five months later, and I just don't know how.

It's so hard to make conversation; I've to pre-plan it, make sure that it's one that doesn't sound overly concerned, one that is based merely of a friendly tone, one that sound not at all interested, when truth is, I can't. I am concerned, I still care, I meant it, but see, thing is, I've to pretend. He doesn't. It's just so ... agonizing.

Well, I guess I always knew the score. This is where our story ends.

Guess it's time I should pick up the pieces and start moving huh? Ironically, on this very date. Life is just full of ironies, I guess. Haha!



Good morning!



I still cry.