The Problem

I have been trying to analyze the problem and to figure out why it has to be like this for quite a long time. I even went as far as to take the initiative to write three messages and call the number three times. No response, which is not exactly surprising. But it hurts. I hate it when there is no response. It feels like shouting to a black hole, I shout so hard, but there is only echo, without anything new. My breath is just taken away. Why it comes so easily, but I have to take it on so hard?

Three is the maximum I could get. I could never be so excellent to be the first, and I couldn't bear to be "next to the first", so I always happily see myself being the third. A lot of the times, the third got the best, sometimes it got nothing too. But still, if "Destiny is just an accident" anyway, no wonder being the third could bring you the most random, but at the same time, most amazing outcomes.

Three is the furthest I could go. I am so tired, so scared, so frustrated and so paranoid to move any further. Count three, if he is still not there, he will just never show up, never. So it is just useless to wait, or to try to convince myself with words that I don't even believe that would ever come out of my own month. I knocked at that door so hard, with all my strength, my courage, and my all-mighty dignity, so hard that I could hear my little heart breaking into tiny pieces, scattered everywhere, and tears nowhere to find. It is not open, counted three. It is never going to open.

Should I call quit? Or, is there anything else I could do? Or, is there anything else I have not tried, yet?

I once loved the song "All that she wants", I loved it because of the rhythm, not the lyric. I know exactly who is the hunter and who is the fox, the lyric just put them reversed.

A guy is not to change, not now, not ever. I knew from the very beginning. So suddenly I realized what pissed me off was not how he betrayed me, but how I betrayed myself. Do I really care him that much to treat myself like this? Am I really smart (oh I mean intelligent) enough to just be nice to myself? I knew him so accurately to be aware of all the danger and all the sorrow waiting ahead, but still I challenged my own kindness, patience and rationality only because I childishly thought he's different and we're meant to be.

Obviously, we are not.

The wind and the leaf are never doomed to be. They just encounter, intertwine, bewilder, and disappear.