12:00 AM, A Little Thing About Love
Monday, January 11, 2010
I love daytime.
I love how studying distracts me from you, even if for a while.
Maybe that's one of the reasons why i don't want to stop studying.
Not studying makes me think of only you.
I can't afford to do that. My heart is broken enough.
I hate nights.
Truth hits me in the night.
The real test comes at night.
When i'm done studying, my mind's idle and resting.
It focuses on you- the first image that comes to mind.
And it won't let go till my soul gives in to sleep.
Nights challenge me.
Yes, i hate nights.
With nothing to distract my mind with, it tends to drift to you,
I love how studying distracts me from you, even if for a while.
Maybe that's one of the reasons why i don't want to stop studying.
Not studying makes me think of only you.
I can't afford to do that. My heart is broken enough.
I hate nights.
Truth hits me in the night.
The real test comes at night.
When i'm done studying, my mind's idle and resting.
It focuses on you- the first image that comes to mind.
And it won't let go till my soul gives in to sleep.
Nights challenge me.
Yes, i hate nights.
With nothing to distract my mind with, it tends to drift to you,
your smile and laughter.
It torments me each time it reminds me of the ecstacy we shared in what
It torments me each time it reminds me of the ecstacy we shared in what
used to be passion and happiness.
Some nights, i sit and try to remember your face.
It isn't that hard.
These tears- they don't come difficult either.
I hate nights. Day takes forever to come.
Ignorance is my new best friend.
It teaches me to block out thoughts of you.
But it also always masks the truth; hiding me from reality.
Each night i look out the window and i stare out the distance,
Some nights, i sit and try to remember your face.
It isn't that hard.
These tears- they don't come difficult either.
I hate nights. Day takes forever to come.
Ignorance is my new best friend.
It teaches me to block out thoughts of you.
But it also always masks the truth; hiding me from reality.
Each night i look out the window and i stare out the distance,
i refuse to believe you're no longer with me.
Daytime is deceptive.
They close the windows of my brain to painful realities.
Nights are bitches.
Knowing i'd be lonely and weak, they strip me off my guard, and open those closed windows, letting me look in the eye of truth- alone.
No physical pain could match up to the pain of facing unwanted truths.
It's like an open wound- the pain of knowing you've lost something you can't replace.
Daytime plasters the wound up but by night, the wound is ripped back open.
Your face waltzing in and out of my head is like salt being sprinkled over the wound.
I take it as a form of consolation for me.
Some nights, i'm confused.
I don't know if i should cry, or if i should laugh it all out.
I've thought of screaming my lungs out, so that i won't be able to breathe.
Then i'll never get to live. And i'll never see you again.
But no, i didn't do that.
For i know that no matter how loud i scream, no scream i belt out would be able to revive me, and make me the person i was when you were with me.
Monday nights, i close my eyes and hope everything is just a dream.
A dream i could wake up to.
A dream i could laugh about.
A dream i could look back at and say,
"It never happened. You never left me."
Wednesday nights, i sit at the edge of my bed and try to picture your whereabouts.
Though its none of my business, i still pray you are safe.
And i still hope your family's fine.
Now every night for at least 33 minutes, I stay awake with my eyes wide open.
Nothing had been a dream.
You're living it up at night, while i'm going off to sleep.
As i close my eyelids, i strain to feel the brush of your lips against them.
My ears prick up like it always do when you're breathing on my neck.
But i feel nothing, and i could hear nothing.
You left me with nothing.
Nothing.
I hate nights.
Nights that i remember you and i.
Me and you.
If night were a person, she'd have heartbreaker written all over her face.
If night were a person, she'd be you.
There isn't many things that i want you to know.
I hate you for this.
But shit, i miss you too.
I miss the way you laugh, the way the corners of your
Daytime is deceptive.
They close the windows of my brain to painful realities.
Nights are bitches.
Knowing i'd be lonely and weak, they strip me off my guard, and open those closed windows, letting me look in the eye of truth- alone.
No physical pain could match up to the pain of facing unwanted truths.
It's like an open wound- the pain of knowing you've lost something you can't replace.
Daytime plasters the wound up but by night, the wound is ripped back open.
Your face waltzing in and out of my head is like salt being sprinkled over the wound.
I take it as a form of consolation for me.
Some nights, i'm confused.
I don't know if i should cry, or if i should laugh it all out.
I've thought of screaming my lungs out, so that i won't be able to breathe.
Then i'll never get to live. And i'll never see you again.
But no, i didn't do that.
For i know that no matter how loud i scream, no scream i belt out would be able to revive me, and make me the person i was when you were with me.
Monday nights, i close my eyes and hope everything is just a dream.
A dream i could wake up to.
A dream i could laugh about.
A dream i could look back at and say,
"It never happened. You never left me."
Wednesday nights, i sit at the edge of my bed and try to picture your whereabouts.
Though its none of my business, i still pray you are safe.
And i still hope your family's fine.
Now every night for at least 33 minutes, I stay awake with my eyes wide open.
Nothing had been a dream.
You're living it up at night, while i'm going off to sleep.
As i close my eyelids, i strain to feel the brush of your lips against them.
My ears prick up like it always do when you're breathing on my neck.
But i feel nothing, and i could hear nothing.
You left me with nothing.
Nothing.
I hate nights.
Nights that i remember you and i.
Me and you.
If night were a person, she'd have heartbreaker written all over her face.
If night were a person, she'd be you.
There isn't many things that i want you to know.
I hate you for this.
But shit, i miss you too.
I miss the way you laugh, the way the corners of your
eyes crinkle up when you smile.
I miss the way you get mad at me, the way you walk away and ignore me.
I miss the way you look into my eyes with your hands on either side of my cheeks- the way you tell me you love me.
I miss watching you stand on the opposite side of the lift and mouthing "I love you"
while i wait patiently for the lift to go down.
I miss you making stupid faces at me when i'm scolding you,
I miss the way you get mad at me, the way you walk away and ignore me.
I miss the way you look into my eyes with your hands on either side of my cheeks- the way you tell me you love me.
I miss watching you stand on the opposite side of the lift and mouthing "I love you"
while i wait patiently for the lift to go down.
I miss you making stupid faces at me when i'm scolding you,
just to purposely annoy me.
I miss you brushing your lips across my eyelids, your knuckles stroking my cheek.
I miss your smell, your scent.
I miss how you stink, how i find that smell incredibly attractive.
I miss poking my head in your face to show off the new shampoo i'm using.
I miss seeing your expression when i ask if i smell good- you'd always say the opposite.
I miss being able to show my concern towards you and your life.
I miss having you wipe my tears away, the way you'd gently tell me not to cry anymore.
I truly miss having someone i can tell everything to, someone i dont have to feel insecure and nervous around.
But i'm afraid to tell you all these.
Because you are not me, and i am not you.
What i feel, is not how you feel.
I can't assume you'd feel the same.
I used to count the days until our next monthsary/anniversary.
Now i'm counting the days until the next time i see you again.
Its nowhere near. Its so far away.
I lied before.
Now that i've taken the time to scribble out the truth in my lies,
I miss you brushing your lips across my eyelids, your knuckles stroking my cheek.
I miss your smell, your scent.
I miss how you stink, how i find that smell incredibly attractive.
I miss poking my head in your face to show off the new shampoo i'm using.
I miss seeing your expression when i ask if i smell good- you'd always say the opposite.
I miss being able to show my concern towards you and your life.
I miss having you wipe my tears away, the way you'd gently tell me not to cry anymore.
I truly miss having someone i can tell everything to, someone i dont have to feel insecure and nervous around.
But i'm afraid to tell you all these.
Because you are not me, and i am not you.
What i feel, is not how you feel.
I can't assume you'd feel the same.
I used to count the days until our next monthsary/anniversary.
Now i'm counting the days until the next time i see you again.
Its nowhere near. Its so far away.
I lied before.
Now that i've taken the time to scribble out the truth in my lies,
i am overwhelmed with sadness.
Sadness that is difficult to comprehend.
Sadness that is difficult to get rid of.
I miss you.
But i'm not going to do anything about it.
I'd wait for nights to pass me.
I'd only just wait.
Sadness that is difficult to comprehend.
Sadness that is difficult to get rid of.
I miss you.
But i'm not going to do anything about it.
I'd wait for nights to pass me.
I'd only just wait.
I miss you like budak gemok yang dah kurus rindu dia punya ice cream.
Love,
Nat.
