I have always been one to enjoy silence. I never understood why i do, but i enjoy it: sitting in silence, staring at the night sky and trying to spot the stars embedded behind the curtains of clouds.

But recently, beyond this silence that was previously therapeutic, silence has become torture. You see, silence from you not talking to me, silence from everything around me being white noise, silence from me feeling like i’m just another aside in a play. Silence, from being alone and detached.

It’s pushing me to places that i have never seen before, and thats not exactly a good thing. It is pushing me so far the edge that i dont know how much longer i can hold on and continue living in this silence. Of course there are times when i escape from this silence but those times are filled with the fleeting emotion of ‘happiness’.

How do i carry on? I can’t accept this silence for what it is, i can’t. Maybe i won’t.



In the crowd, I looked around, looking for a familiar face. I don’t know why I did, (looking out for you), but I did, and unknowingly, my eyes fell on you.

I saw you from afar, with your long straight hair and that hand, oh that hand, that brushed the hair away from your eyes. It felt like i was back to those days again. My heart raced, since I haven’t talked to you in months. And fuck, that feeling washed over me and I was head over heels all in a split second.

I tried my hardest to divert my attention to something else, for when I saw you, I saw her too. I felt betrayed, yet understood why. Somehow, I simply followed your footsteps, staring at you, no matter where you walked. Until I let you walk on into the crowd, away from me, together with her.

That feeling of misery and jealousy plagued me, and till now, it pulsates through my bones. Only now can I put it in words: I miss you so so so so much it hurts my core, it hurts my heart. And what hurts even more wasn’t that you were with her, it was that you weren’t in my life anymore.

I never wanted anything more (anymore) than just talking to you, and that’s not something I have told you. You only thought that I wanted to get you back, to get you to love me as much as I loved you. But really, I just want you in my life, even if you didn’t reciprocate, I want to keep talking to you, and know what’s up and literally, be there for you. I can’t even do that now.

So I watched you go, without turning back to look me in the eyes or give me a smile. I watched you be strong. And I let you go, with her, into the crowd. I stood there. Looking for a familiar face in the crowd, but I haven’t found one again.


I watched you two flirt with love, without a care of the world. 

I watched the way you stared at her, the bubble that you two were in. 

I watched your fingers intertwine with hers ever so tightly, gently and gracefully, as if two puzzle pieces were put together. 

Then I drowned, am drowning: in the picture of me clumsily holding your hand for the first time, with my flushed red face staring at your beautiful eyes while time stood still, the way I loved you, the way I still love you- while I stood and watch you love her, while loving you ever so slightly yet ferociously from a bystander’s point of view. 


Once, I was told that promises are meant to be kept. And I kept them.

Next, I was promised that you would never hurt me. And you did.

Perhaps, your promise of always being here, will be kept. But, perhaps not. 


Running through my mind is all the mistakes I’ve made, flaws I have, people I’ve lost, person I love. I can’t stop myself from thinking of all the darkness that looms over me. It’s as if, I can’t find any more light.

And it scares me. Scares me to think that years just keep getting worse no matter what I do, days keep getting darker no matter how hard I try to make it better. 

I’m just not good enough

Maybe, maybe this is my endpoint. Maybe everything ends here. Maybe. 


Once, there existed you and I. You were outgoing, cheerful, sociable, happy, optimistic. I on the other hand, pessimistic, antisocial, unfriendly, withdrawn. 

There were times where you were more dominant than I, and vice versa. You brought happiness to others, while I remained the one that was always quietly thinking and feeling. 

Then, you left. Disappeared without a trace. I miss you, I miss the us that was us. I miss the happiness that existed. Now all that’s left is I, just a negative, empty shell of a person that used to be more. I’m empty and lost. 

I need you back, I need my other half back. I need to be complete again. 


I’m an artist, carving the most beautiful works of art on the nearest canvas of available space. My form of art is one of secrecy and precision, one that conveys immense emotions through the simplest of actions. One that expresses how i really feel on the inside. There’s no hiding from my work of art because it is my source of comfort, my source of releasing all the bottled-up emotions within me.

If only people could view my art, so that they would understand me better, but i’m sorry, some forms of art are private. Maybe, you could pay an entrance fee of your love? Maybe then, I would open up.


It’s funny how I have more than one friend, but I only am genuinely close to two. And now that one of them is out of school, I don’t know what to do: she’s the closest person I have, my best friend, my real best friend.

Now I roam about the crowded halls with no one bothering to give me a second look, when in the past my eyes searched for the familiar face that I can no longer see in these congested pathways. 

My source of comfort is gone. I’m alone.