'...and that You miss me, too.'

Source : aRQ3pxq on 9GAG

6 Minutes.

Yet another Coincidence.

This time, it's 6 minutes apart.

It's beginning to feel like birth pangs.

Dear You, what is Your Purpose?

I gave You 9 whole years.

More importantly, I gave you my youth. I can never have that back.

I would love to live each day in Happiness.

If You would not say,

Then let me walk away.

Word.

Who would put everything on hold for a single word?

9 years of everything but a verbal affirmation.

For reasons known only to Yourself, You just wouldn't say.

Circumstances are but excuses.

Friends don't understand why that singular syllable held such significance.

"You know the Answer."
"You know he does."
"Do you really need an answer when it's so obvious?"
"Why are you denying that it's a huge yes?"

These are but speculation.

2579832159022370021690 gestures on your part could light up the entire Earth but it would not suffice.

Until it is articulated by You, nothing holds true.

But I do not want to subject myself to anymore tears while awaiting the monosyllable and so, I've turned tail and fled, abandoning my heart in the process.

I've given You 9 years,

You've given me all but the 1 word I'd been waiting for.

Poignance weaves a sad smile and lays its heart to rest.

Let That Be Enough.

My modus operandi of the week is to simply forge ahead

And be oblivious to the obvious.

First, the scrawls.
Next, the place.

It is where my heart is.

You know it, for I've told you that if I could, I'd love to live in ____.

You will not take those wonderful memories away, as much as you try to remind me of your existence.

Why do all these,

Only when I've decided to let go?

Because You do not want to lose?
Because You cannot believe that the last line of defence has thrown in the towel?
Because You regret not telling me in return?
Because You still have feelings for me?

None of this is reality, for it is mere speculation in my head.

Conjectures will remain as such so long as You continue to play this game of Coincidence : Round 263690248032.

No.

I want to be OK.

I don't want to have slivers of pure joy sandwiched between layers of agony and tears.

Love is a many splendoured thing, but shards & fragments sure ain't part of that mix.

The guise,

The pretence,

The secrecy we've I've had to endure,

The tears...

Dear You, life has got to carry on.

Mine has been on hold for 9 years,

And soon, it shall be 10 when You return.

Let that be enough.

The First : Splurge to Purge

So, September has had its fair share of Day Ones.

But 2013's different.

I went out and practically bought the entire boutique along Orchard Road.

No, it wasn't done at a whim.

It was a conscious decision to be rid of a portion of my old clothes. A wardrobe change would do me good.

I've been hoarding these loins, worn & unworn (with price tags attached!), since adolescence. While numerous items with designer labels have been given away when I was 20, a large part tarries in the depths of my closet. This is due to the emotional attachment affixed on each item.

Because books and clothes form my identity, I've been quite the hoarder of pulp. *Gulp*

Thus, if I can let go of these clothes, I will learn to let go of the past.

It is ritualistic in a sense - the tangible loosening of one's grip on physical entities will lay the ground for the paradigm shift in mindsets, which is the crux.

I don't have to.

But I want to.

9 years is enough.

I've waited (and wilted) thus far.

It's enough.

You cannot keep me as someone to bolster your ego, someone You'd run to when you need comfort, someone You know who'd always be there, someone who'd give her all for You.

I love You.

You know jolly well that I do.

But I cannot allow this to be exploited at my expense.

I've allowed You to hide my existence and wallow in silence, not knowing when You'd return.

I thought, no, believed that You'd loved me too, at least in the past.

9 years is a whisker away from a decade.

How many decades punctuate one's life? Not many, I'm afraid. Of 3 that have passed, 1 has been solely devoted to You. That's one-third of my life.

November & December 2012 were months that I'd foolishly believed It would be so. Never mind ____. I knew it would be transient. Because You'd chosen to keep me around & went out of Your way to do certain things despite ____.

I don't want to be bitter.

I don't wish to be saddled with misery.

I don't like tearing on a daily basis.

That is not Living.

I want to be Happy.

I'd hoped so much that I could grow old with You.

I'd wanted to make amends so badly for The Choice.

In fact, tears cloud my vision at this moment as I type furiously within these parameters.

I'd wished that if I could not have spent my youth with You, then I would ebb away into my silvered years with You.

This naive thought has translated into flickers of Joy that were doused with Fears & Tears.

So, You see,

By emptying my closet,

I'd be able to fill my heart with Happiness once again.

It may not be what I want,

But at the very least, the tears will come to a halt.

As expounded in my scrawls elsewhere that evoked Your response,Shit Happens.

You know my drill -

It's up to ME to clean up MY mess.

"Maybe Tomorrow."

Each day, she tells herself, "Maybe Tomorrow."

Days give way to weeks.

Weeks soon turn to months,

And months crust into years.

They are but one shy from a Decade.

365 x 12 x 9 = 39 420

Maybe Tomorrow.