oh well. not so well.

I was busy being happy lately. Oh well, with all the world taken off my shoulders. Wow. I miss the feeling.

But still, I couldn't feel nice all over. There would always be that empty space on one corner of my life that has never been filled in. And I mean never. Never had that feeling of security with another person. I have always been alone. Not that I hate being single, but really, with the things that I am carrying within me, I could do better with someone. And to be a part of someone else's burden would be great. Being loved is something. Reciprocation is something else.

I stumbled upon my friend Izy's blog and read this lines:

"i wish i had someone to share my whole life with already. i wish i'd have something definite. something i can at least hold on to.. something i can pretty much depend on, that won't change. with everything that's happening, it's the only thing i know i can look forward to.. and that'll help me survive. so.. just wishful thinking."

Really worth quoting. She put it the way I couldn't say (or I couldn't admit). It's just that, when you know that there's someone out there. You don't have to say anything, but he'll know. Okay, that's too idealistic. What I mean is, you say so little yet he understands a lot. And he doesn't have to do anything drastic to make you feel loved; just being there matters a lot.

Haaaayy. I miss him. And I couldn't see him anymore. He wouldn't respond to my SMS. So I resolved to not bug him. Whatever.

I should get over him. Soon.

But for now... I still miss him. And maybe, I wouldn't stop missing him. He really is different. But I couldn't do anything. He's too far off me.

I know I've done some things that sabotaged our should-have-been's. And maybe if I didn't staged them, we might have been in a better phase. I don't know. I panicked. And I was paranoid. I was also afraid at the same time. Sorry. My bad. It was my fault. Stupid me.

But too late. The harm's been done. And he's so far away. I couldn't correct them now because I don't even know if he felt something that time. The situation was really ambiguous as I tried to read it then. But really... all those nice things he did to me (and to me alone) were something. And I was this queen of paranoia who noticed everything. And I tried to interpret the signs, his signs. And I kept asking if they are really signs. But until now, I don't know what they are.

I want to see him badly, but don't want to at the same time. I want to reminisce about our sweet nothings, but hate to remember his cold treatment. I want to talk to him, but don't want to hear his uninterested grunts. Whatever. I am torn between inspiration and despair. Sucks. It doesn't have to be this way.

I really don't know how to end this entry. But I guess it has to end now. Everything's so vague. And I guess, it's really God who knows the truth. If I'm ever going to know about it, I don't know.