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“The sad thing is I know that he’ll never be mine.”
This story has made its way to me, affected me dearly. Bummer. Fudge. UGHHHHH. Why?
First, I don’t know. I frickin’ don’t know. I feel heartbroken right now. I also don’t know why. No, I would’ve known if I can think straight coz right now my head’s cloudy with thoughts that are all messed up. My train of thought suddenly went frantic. I think love has made me like this.
Maybe I’m avoiding love. Maybe it’s because I felt what Jaz(protagonist) felt: Hurting because of love. I felt it, many times already. She’s in love with someone who doesn’t love her back, with someone she told herself she can never have. I, have been on that road for the nth time that I already felt numb and bitter towards love.
Maybe it’s because I envy Jaz. She’s already got Mr. Right, just in front of her! Since she was a kid! But she took him for granted. I, on the contrary, is still waiting for Mr. Right, been desperately waiting with my best friend Ash.
THIS is the disadvantage I’m so much aware of whenever I read love stories. I get freakin’ lovesick in an instant. And would be more desperate. And would be looking for the PERFECT guy even more. Which is wrong, since perfect guys only exist in books and if there are in this world of ours, they are freakingly RARE and so hard to find. Other than that, either they’re already in love with someone else or they don’t really see you.
Sometimes, I think love sucks. No, I think the feeling love gives sucks. Okay, the negative side. Clear enough?
I’ve been in love for a couple of times. And they’ve been unforgettable coz I’m that person who don’t forget easily. Which is also a disadvantage, even if I want to forget something so bad, I just can’t. It keeps coming back. Bummer.
Love’s taught me a lot, enough to make me scrutinize and double take before I indulge myself to its haven. And still, I screw up in the end. Maybe it’s because I’m very cautious to fall in love fully that I screw up. Love taught me to be afraid of getting hurt. Emotional pain weakens me, but thankfully I still have the strength to be stable and pretend I’m okay every time. But I’m tired, of keeping all the hurt inside me.
Ugh, who am I kidding. I know in myself that even if I change my attitude of pretense I will always come back being a pretender. It’s like my shield, to protect me from people and their endless questions. Only a few people really know the full story I seldom say, and I trust them enough to make me feel even the slightest bit of better.