As I write this, I keep saying the same thing to my self: everyone’s almost similar. Each of us might keep a black part of so-called love story…
If I could ever dream, then the worst nightmare would be this: Be left with half empty heart. Feels like a near-death experience, when you see your body weakened. And each day passed only takes you to the deepest cut. Somehow, it’s weird knowing that you could feel-literally- a broken heart.
She always thinks of a never-ending delight in her life. Despite her bad luck in love, she tries to keep kinda positive thinking that other things in her life might be better as the time passes. She only has to patiently wait. She does have a diary, of course. But not much has been written. It’d be better to keep it by her self, she mumbled. She already stopped put some trust to her friends, since the last time they have functions as matchmakers for her.
“Time heals,” her friends said, giving up for her stubbornness. No, she sighed. Time will not heal anything in her case. She drowned herself between Rosie Thomas’ Say Hello, Muse’s Supermassive Black Hole, Enya’s May It Be, Paramore’s I Caught Myself, and last… Laskar Pelangi’s Seroja. Every time she needs a runaway, she would just put a big headset, sit silently in front of her PC, and play the same play list over and over again. Pathetic, huh?
Well, what could be more pathetic than a brokenhearted girl whose happy life waits behind? It was like a two-sided coin. She’s chosen. Reject all the possibilities [love] which have come and offered her something different. Now, she doesn’t even wanna know whether her choice brings her to the black part of a thing what people die for: LOVE.
She doesn’t deserve this, does she? It’s a long-suffering moment she could ever imagine to experience. Alone, she was trapped in her made-by-self misery. All she can see here now is that… she already lives her own pathetic electronic cinematic love story…
=been written at 3AM in the morning, after having a pray, while longing to be sleepy=