writing

You: Did you miss me?

I miss you and all, but I’m too lost for words.

We’ve been mindful of what this world’s all about – filled with thoughts remained unscathed, as if telling one the truth will mean burying ourselves deeper into the ground.

But beyond every apathetic excuse I came up with on why I drew the line of keeping in touch, I soon figured out there is still left to grasp onto, let alone prove that all these mattered once, the ones I’ve kept this long from you.

Like how you reminded me of how weak you fell to your knees and how stronger you’ve become on the darkest of days after you unknowingly saw the light in me.

Or how you brought the comfort while I deal with strands of hopelessness and your stupid little ways of reminding me that better days are yet to come.

I remembered everything, even the slightest piece of fragment of what used to be the deepest of deep we cannot even fathom.

I miss you my antihero, regardless of thinking you will never be the same. The world will continue to spin for how long it will take, but no longer will be the same world we once both revolved around in.

For how long will I taste this aftermath?

How can I possibly detach?

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You don’t feel sadness like I do

You never wandered to any place and found solitude within every bumpy road you took and street you dared to cross. You didn’t lock yourself in a room filled with nothing but gloom, as it thrust you all the pain this lonely world had to offer. You never felt the agony of missing the people who drifted away one by one, until nobody else was left to stay. You’re not familiar to shortness of breath, in-between sobs, holding back of tears and clenching fists. You never felt the hypothermic chills moving through spine, numbing every part of skin while it cracks through every nerve of your brain. You never escaped from what is worse than fear and apathy. You never masked yourself to get away from everything that troubles you.

You don’t feel sadness like I do.