Why is everyday so different?

Two years ago. We fell in love for the first time. Using the word love to describe what we felt for each other, was it too much? Now, it seems like too big a word, compared to our cowering relationship. Nonetheless, it was a bang. Looking back, it felt like a big whirlwind of happiness, mixed with a little bit of jealousy, anger, and alot of missing. Towards the end, alot of hatred.

Is this drama the food of my soul? I'm hungry....

A year ago, I just fell in love the second time with the same boy that hurt me. It had felt like we were going home to our destiny. We told that to each other only when everything went wrong. A year ago, the message tone of my phone made me happy, so happy sometimes I could yelp with joy. I relished in my fears of us screwing up again, knowing deep down that what mattered was that we were together again, at that very moment.

And now, a year after all that, against tradition, I face our memories alone. There is no going home for me, and it feels like to me a book that I have turned the last page to, but i haven't finished reading. A year. Is this why all this is haunting me?

Instead of wishing there were 2 of you, I wished there was none of me.