Dear you..

Dear You,

Here you are again, just like the way you were before. Knocking at the door as if it’s nothing. Oh, it’s pretty much nothing. I guess it’s only I who considers it as something.

The saddest sad thing is that here you are again, hurting me unknowingly - just like before. We sort of have this telepathic hurting if there’s such a thing. We’re a sucker for it, I know.

We pretend that there’s no drama to it. Well, in this case, I pretend that there’s no drama to it. But the endless wanderings and curiosity of the mind and the uncontrollable speed of my imagination to possibilities of the future left me wounded by scraping the scars. Once again, we’re here.

We’re here making confusions, wrong assumptions. We’re here conversing of things we’ve never talked about our whole lives but pretending we know a thing or two about each other. We’re here in this place called semi-bliss wherein only us knows. We’re here, once again, into the pit of an ugly kind of friendship.

You hurt me in such mysterious ways - the hurting from within is like a piercing dagger stabbed back and forth at the same cut it has been piercing from the moment it pierced my heart.

But then again, since you don’t know about it, I might as well regard it as something not hurtful to be apologized upon. An honest mistake, an accident, whatever I would call it so that I wouldn’t treat it as your mistake.

Although I would love it if you’ll apologize, apologize even from the top of you “faults list”, but then you wouldn’t and you’ll never be.

And I guess… that’s it. You better take care of yourself.

Love,

Me.