Moving on. Or am I back to the beginning?

No, I didn't write them.

But life happens, and suddenly you find yourself so far from where you've been. No warnings, no street signs, no one telling you where you made the wrong turn.

And soon it will be 2 years, then 3, then 10, and I won't even remember his face anymore and something somewhere will remind me of him and I will think to myself I really loved that boy.


I have so many things that I want to say and so many things that I want to do. But I can’t do anything. I don’t know this somebody, and I am afraid that I never will. I have waited so long for this somebody to come, so long that I have made him an unrealistic and fictional person. Boys like him don’t really exist. They are too good to be true. They are made up in messed up minds like mine, and the only time you will ever meet them, is when you fall asleep and drag them in to your dreams.

What awaits me?

Sometimes I want the normalcy. The attention it deserves, and the respect that I do not give to it.
All I do is crowd myself with moments.
Like snapshots. Transitory and momentous.

I was crossing the road and I thought to myself, every relationship will end this way.
As ordinary as crossing the road.