And now we wait...
I waited, I waited and I waited.
How long has it been since that awkward bus ride? The one that had me feeling bad for pushing you to express yourself. The one that had me depressed when trying to get you out of your depression. The one that had you refusing to look at me in the eye when I left you at the stop.
How long has it been?
You tried to fix things by thanking me for making you face up to issues that you had. But that was only after I sent you an extremely long apologetic text message for pushing you too much.
Are we really okay?
Our random exchanges online seemed alright on the surface but we know better, don't we? The embedded messages within the careful arrangement of words and those silly, pointless colons and brackets placed at the end to reinforce the superficiality of it all. We've talked about this, haven't we? What's your point?
Where are we now?
Yet, I kept on waiting for the time we'll be fine with one another but I can never find that chance. Let's face it. We've lost the plot. You've gone on with the rest of your friends and I'm still right here waiting.
I kept on waiting and waiting that maybe, you'll reach out for me. Then, I realised the absurdity of the situation. I can never have friendships that will last. I'm the one to blame in all that I had because I ran away (for some absurd reason or another).
I had thought that this must be one of those that I can never have.
So I stopped waiting. I (thought I had) stopped caring.
And then, on my birthday, you turned and asked, "Where have you gone off to, Missy?" (among all other words)
...
I almost broke down reading that. It took me two days to reply to that message with something so constructed I hoped he might not be able to tell what I am truly saying. Or maybe I'm wishing he might.
Of course, that was that. It was mere obligation ,it seems.
Should I wait for him? Or am I already waiting for him?
I can't make out my thoughts about this anymore.
Well, right now, we wait...
How long has it been since that awkward bus ride? The one that had me feeling bad for pushing you to express yourself. The one that had me depressed when trying to get you out of your depression. The one that had you refusing to look at me in the eye when I left you at the stop.
How long has it been?
You tried to fix things by thanking me for making you face up to issues that you had. But that was only after I sent you an extremely long apologetic text message for pushing you too much.
Are we really okay?
Our random exchanges online seemed alright on the surface but we know better, don't we? The embedded messages within the careful arrangement of words and those silly, pointless colons and brackets placed at the end to reinforce the superficiality of it all. We've talked about this, haven't we? What's your point?
Where are we now?
Yet, I kept on waiting for the time we'll be fine with one another but I can never find that chance. Let's face it. We've lost the plot. You've gone on with the rest of your friends and I'm still right here waiting.
I kept on waiting and waiting that maybe, you'll reach out for me. Then, I realised the absurdity of the situation. I can never have friendships that will last. I'm the one to blame in all that I had because I ran away (for some absurd reason or another).
I had thought that this must be one of those that I can never have.
So I stopped waiting. I (thought I had) stopped caring.
And then, on my birthday, you turned and asked, "Where have you gone off to, Missy?" (among all other words)
...
I almost broke down reading that. It took me two days to reply to that message with something so constructed I hoped he might not be able to tell what I am truly saying. Or maybe I'm wishing he might.
Of course, that was that. It was mere obligation ,it seems.
Should I wait for him? Or am I already waiting for him?
I can't make out my thoughts about this anymore.
Well, right now, we wait...