Letting out something from my chest.

It was love. Love was at fault of everything that happened in my life. I chased, I regret, I lost, I even give in for the sake of love.

But no, love never had any sense for me at this point. What’s the use of falling in love when love itself tries to take advantage of you?

I looked up at the grey morning sky. It looked like it was about to rain. Left, right, there was no one familiar. I light my cigarette and savoured the minty taste of it, causing dizziness to my sight. I arranged my skirt and crossed my legs. Two years had passed anyway, so why would I think about him?

Ah. Of course, I remember now. It was exactly today, two years ago when we started having sweet nothings. I would write simple phrases, and then, after a minute or so, we had done a song. Sweet songs of young love that tell our stories in simple sentences, and, of course, try to compose it.

The days continue to be wasted with kisses and hugs under the stars and the moonlight. Young love, ah, the taste of rebellion, what does it matter if I was older and you were younger? I placed all my cards, I bet everything, even my life, we would last.

We were perfect. Different similarities, same differentiations. Paradoxically speaking, we were north and south, east and west, fire and water. Everything that you asked, I did so.

Vice versa.

Still, young love…

Exploration is a must for young love.

Night had come. I smiled when we were inside the room.

You cupped my cheeks, kissed me right there and then. Pushed me to the wall, savouring my taste, devouring my lips. You were a monster, a very beautiful monster that awakened the inner demon in me.

Dance we did, and nothing came out. The silence of the room was the only deafening sound that could actually hypnotize the moment. When the dance almost came to an end, we were caught.

Thank goodness, not someone we know.

Still, that person could tell us out. Negotiations, et cetera, et cetera.

After that, you never talked to me like before. There you are but nothing came out, nothing struck me like the lightning from heavens.


I knew it was coming to an end.

Anticipating that you will say those words, I didn’t say a thing. At the end of it, why of all days?

“I’m still in love with her… I’m sorry,”

Dumped. Broken. Jaded. Dead.

During my 17th birthday.

Why? Why on my birthday? What kind of lover are you? Why, of all people, will you hurt me like this?

I found it hard to muster my pride that time. Well, the past is in the past. Sure, I can be civilized when I’m with you, but never expect that I am a friend. It’s not that I’m still in pain, but you must realize what you had done.

Well, I guess that’s it then. He’s here now.

I had moved on.

Why can’t you?

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