April 27th

That day, maybe you were looking for punctuation marks to put to our relationship. I imagined you scribbled through the choices of marks you have. Unfortunately you were not even confused. You gave a coma; unknowingly if the sentence of our rs will be continued, or hang right there. I was in a sea of question marks.

That day, it was far from your imagination how vulnerable i had been-- of your fears and your words. I am not that kind of girl who would spam your chats asking why. I respect all your say.

That day, you never knew how anxious i was. My pills was not helping-- and finally it only slow down my heart beats when i was overdose. Closing eyes was not calming, deep breath was nothing but in vain. None could see that my heart may pound hard but it is indeed dead. The death with no grave.

That day, I did not know where to find my comfort. I grab my car key and drove off to where i call home; no hesitation, no second thoughts. Never you know how that journey was a painful struggle. I stopped at almost all the rnrs just to cry and let my emotion out. I was in utter pain.

That day, I went to the person i trust with my life. I pour my heart out at 1 am on her shoulder questioning what had i done wrong. She says it was your fire of will that just dim out. My eyes sore, my head aches-- but the pain is far from equal to what i felt inside.

That day, i couldnt help myself to sleep, i stare at the fan thinking on how could i move on from all this heartache. I closed my eyes, and slept at 5-- just to woke up 1 hour later to find out how much i love you, still.

That day, i knew i need to let you go no matter how analogous my love to the deepest ocean, because yours is a drought. The next day, i came with a plan by telling myself to resolve and get stronger each day. Calculating, it can only be achieved with 5% probability. When i sent the email to take a month break from work just to heal from the pain you inflicted, i knew the plan would be a total failure. My life too.

A month after that day, i realised that it's over. And i still cry like a baby; so here i am realising i will never recover from this. I never want to know how easy it is for you as it will only burn my wound. I swore that it was really hard for me. So i wrote this down to make me remember, not to love easily--

That room your love once bloom is never vacant, for pain is painting it black. It's dark here, i cant even find the door.

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