But then again, how did those stories end? Wasn’t theirs a happy one? Or did I just imagine it?

Apparently, most of the women born in this world are bound to such fate. For them to be destroyed by some loser and be reborn from the ashes like the phoenix in all its glory and radiance.

But I didn’t say that the phoenix can’t be killed. But it has an amazing ability to be reborn again and again.

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This paragraph has been edited as it contains NOT pure hatred, but hatred nonetheless. It kinda sounded cheesy as it got longer.

!@#$%^&*&^$#&*)(&%$##%^&*)((#Q#$(*&Q#$)(&Q%)(&Q)%#^&$^$&)#()Q(#%(#^…

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My Dad told me, as I was crying my eyes out at Shakey’s 2 days before Christmas, “A slip of the foot you may soon recover, but a slip of the tongue you may never get over.” I’ve somehow blamed myself that I pushed you to hate me because I spoke of many useless words that didn’t help our situation. I was sad and lonely, lost and longing, abandoned and jealous. I felt ill to the guts. And I said, “You don’t have power over me anymore.” I ate my words too soon. I found myself fallen into depression as Christmas approached. They say, “Hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned.” You scorned me. But I didn’t want to let go of you yet. Not like that. Not while we’re miles apart. Not with that bitch for your neighbor.

Today, we had an argument. You were working and didn’t want to be disturb. But I just asked how you were doing, didn’t I? I showed concerned for your selfish ass, didn’t I? But you brushed me off like a paid whore.

Hear my words when I say, I DON”T WANT TO BE TREATED THAT WAY. That you’ll just be nice to me WHEN YOU WANT TO and I CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. That’s a fucked up life. DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT if you don’t want me to get fed up about all these. Yes, I ALSO get FED UP. I WILL GET ANGRY WHEN I WANT TO and if getting ANGRY too will be your ANSWER then, FUCK YOU. Yes, I’M SCARED that YOU”LL GET ANGRY AGAIN the way you did this CHRISTMAS, but I WILL NOT lose my IDENTITY just so I could get to YOUR GOOD SIDE. I LOVE YOU, but I’M NOT YOUR TOY. I WANT TO RESPECTED AS THE PERSON I AM.

I don’t want to be my Mom… obedient and silent. You’re becoming more like your Mom… cold and indifferent.

P.S. I’m scared for the mere fact that you’ll read this post and get mad… It’s so sad that I’ve come to feel like this about you…

Exactly what I am feeling…

Last night, like many other nights, I was hunted by my past… A past that I wished have never happened… If I could turn back time, I will be there to stop it… I would get there, no matter how far, no matter how difficult, no matter the cost… If I could have prevented you from liking somebody else… So I can be the one who made you smile and laugh… to be the one you hang out with… the one you talk to when you couldn’t sleep… the one you share your excitement with… the one you share your cooking with… the one you go to work with… the one you share your ideas and jokes with… sing karaoke until the morning… chat with until the sunrise… write to… care about if I smile or not… sleep on my carpet… to be the ONLY ONE…

I never expected that of all the people that you have to be with, she’s the one whom you’ve taken a liking to… I was most comfortable with her around… I was wrong… I know now that physical appearance is not your thing… It’s what makes you happy… It was her carefree character… her audacity and being dynamic… and energetic towards life…

I knew that at that time, I couldn’t be the person she was… because I was missing a part of myself… we were miles apart… I just couldn’t be the same… I couldn’t smile or laugh in the same way when you’re around… I couldn’t go to places cause familiar places remind me of you… and new places, I want to share that excitement with you…

But you tell me, “Life shouldn’t stop for you and me…”

God knows the countless night I’ve cried…staring at my monitor…waiting for you to go online… just to see your face…to hear your voice… I would wait and wait… Not caring about the hours that pass by, nor the strain in my eyes, nor the tiredness of my body… Like the goal of my living was to see you every night, and the misery I felt will only end the moment I hear the sound of Wengo Phone ringing…

Torture… That’s what it was…

Tears are flowing… My wounds are still open… Maybe I should stop for tonight…