I'm sorry.

Thursday. August, 2014.

00:33

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for not having a heart big enough to endorse your silent tyranny, the mourning belief and your bitter lenity towards me. I did respect you, with all my heart and all its zest. I did care for you and loved and wished nothing but the best for you. Thou tonight, I'm sorry for having none of that to endure. Tonight I'm sorry not to you, but to myself for not having a heart big enough to wipe out clean, the torture you held upon my soul and the stance of not having done that. Tonight, I'm sorry not you, but to myself.

I'm sorry for not having a heart big enough.

-Fa

Past.

It doesn't. 

Past, it doesn't exist exist. It's a delusion, a memory. 

Merely some stories we tell each other that don't even resemble 

with others most of the times. Stories,that are only meant to feed our curiosity, our whys and why nots, our fears and our hopes. Also our regrets, and the unequivocal rage. It doesn't matter. I think it doesn't. Because the present, today and the right now will never rely on the atrocious and the unbelievable past. At least it doesn't have to. So, I guess it doesn't matter either.

I mean, I hope it doesn't. 

Because in all its ingenuity and all its flaw,  it is the only theory that makes me sleep at night. 

-Fa 

Caraphernalia

Because trust me when I say, I believe in one sided love.

I believe in loving someone who can never be yours. 

I believe in savoring the little euphoria we had and relishing in that. 

Maybe because, inside I'm afraid that it might rot otherwise? I don't know. 

What I do know is that I love loving you like this. And I'll always be his. 

But why does it kill me to know that I can never be with him? 

Why does it break me apart every time I hear his voice? 

Why do I tear every time I see his face? How is he still happy? 

Why does the thought sting in my heart? Why do I still cut? 

Why does it hurt like this? 

- Fa 

Ordinary.

She just thought that she was so ordinary, 

she didn't have what it takes for someone to fall in love with.

That she could never be loved. Loved truly, you know?

The kind of love that could make someone cry just by thought of having it. 

the kind of love that would make someone fall, for real. 

The unconditional love. The unexplainable one. 

And the thought that she just wasn't the person to be loved like that.

Just this one. This scared the shit out of her. 

- Fa 

Just a realist.

All of the "It happened for a reason", "There's something better in it"

and the "At least I learned from it" and every other caramel and candy

conscience tries to force into it, nothing is even close being worth the wreck it made out of me.

Life really beat me up bad and I am probably never going recover my whole life

- THIS is the reality. 

So, no. I am not a pessimist. Just a realist. Get used to it. 

- Fa 

A fantasy.

I don't see the point.

Joy, laughter - the reveling in. These words mock me.

We are too hideous of creatures to become worthy of such pleasure.

It is almost a pathetic impossibility. God must know our worth and therein pour the tragedy of existence upon us - upon me. I mustn't talk for everyone. And so the joy, laughter and the reveling in makes no sense. And, I call it a fantasy. 

- Fa 

Everything and nothing.

No, she wasn't ready for that. 

No one is ever ready to become dark. 

No she felt it under her skin.

It was an unexplainably extreme feeling. 

Like there's every emotion inside of her at every time. 

And like there's nothing at all either. 

She was peaceful and cold.

Yet, at war, all the time. 

-Fa