I remember.

I remember.

I hate it when people say that I am galau all the time just because of the love stuff I post. Love stuff doesn’t mean that a person is galau, it simply means that the person is sweet and poetic.

I hate it when I don’t know what I feel, I just lay on my bed, listen to one sad song and then his image comes all of a sudden. Then I know that I remember him, that I miss him, one more time.

I hate it when I don’t know whether it is a fantasy or reality. I don’t know whether I am insane or not cause he has long gone. I have lost him years before. Yet the image of him is very vivid in my mind. Every detail of the past when I knew him is still there, at the bottom of my heart.

Sometimes I can be so clueless about what I feel. I hate it when I realize that I am still holding the memories I should have left behind but they are too beautiful to forget. I hate it when I still think about the letter he wrote long ago that I stupidly tore. I wish I could apologize, I wish we could meet one day.

Love can be this hurt when he is no longer there for you; when you have things unsaid; when all you can do is just wishing for a miracle that will bring him back. Love can be this painful when I am both afraid and happy with the possibilities that I might have a chance to meet him someday.

And at the end of this galau feeling, all I can do is just whispering a prayer, a prayer that I make with all of my heart, a prayer that I won’t stop making until you come back. At the end, I will pray, “Please bring him back to me. Please give us lots of coincidences that make us meet again and fall in love and start everything from the beginning. Let me know what he wrote that day, let me give him a reply.”



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