Just Another Shout about Lost Love...

it's been a long year.a year of lost causes and great expectations, a year of homesickness and complicated relationships. a whole year spent in a phonebox shouting out love down a bad line. twelve months of wishing and wanting and having to do without the simple stuff like mum's toasted bread and dad's rather twisted, but completely practical logic.and, it's been a year without you. a year (and a half) since i stopped letting you walk all over me because that look in your eyes would always, always undo me. and it'd always end the same- with promises that meant nothing to you and the world to me. little things i'd never even see or realised and i'd always thought i was always one up on others. i'm assaulted by those yesterdays, sometimes. walking down Ayala Avenue or even at Nakpil Rd. and there's a flash of brown arms and legs, pale wrists and chocolate almond eyes. i have to shake myself because, well because. it's pointless berating myself.

i hate having to look through my shoeboxes because there's always, always something about you. an unfinished letter to you, 'dear-.' and i crumple it and chuck it in the bin. and this, from me- the person who never throws things away. i can't bring myself to throw out the snapple bottles yet. they're still there- at the back of my cupboard. my scrawled, 'april 2005. I Love you baby! .' a mocking reminder of who we used to be. i can't believe i never saw the signs. letters to my best friends,'dear- .i'm sorry about always going on about -, but you know what i get like. a terrier with a bone, i just don't let go. but, i'm starting to feel like i've done something wrong. he never writes, or rings me or messages even. i've asked what's wrong, but he hasn't replied yet.maybe i've done something and he's mad at me. do you think i should apologise? yeah, i think i will actually. but i can't think of anything. but i suppose i am rather blunt and perhaps i said or did something. i can be quite ...cruel that way?i'm sorry about unloading, as always. sometimes i think he can do better, i suppose my whining must get really annoying.anyhow, how's oliver...

'half my letters were always about you. always. there was no 'me', or 'i'. just a appendage to you. i was defined by you, as stupid as that is. and i spent nine of our ten months together fretting about not being good enough.

i cried myself to sleep every day and i hated the city that kept me so, so far away from you.i rang you when my best friend left our city, and i cried down the phone and i'd never done that. i'd never cried so much before, and you were there for me and that was who i fell (a little bit) in love with. or so i believed.i don't like being wrong. but you were possibly, the biggest mistake of my mid twenty years. and i cringe at every memory and i wish i could take it all back. everything. all my wasted emotions and tears and anger and i wish, i just wish that none of this affected me still.i see the back of your head at a supermarket and i'm running through aisles trying to avoid you. i know it's you with that dark hair and those long legs and brown arms. i know that walk. i know that side tilt head thing you do. and i know your mum and your brother. i shouldn't be the one running scared. it should be you.but it isn't. like it wasn't you who said, 'enough'. just like it wasn't you who cared. and exactly how it wasn't you who wasn't good enough.