I give up on people a lot.
If I don't see or hear from you, my heart for you slowly dies and I detach myself from you. I give up on you. I do not know why I do that. I don't even plan on it. It just happens.
I get resentful, too. I get all these mad accusations inside my head about how petty you have become and I get petty, too. And I indulge myself to some self pity and I stay there until something better catches my attention or some fond memory jolts me back to my senses.
And then I love you again. And then, you are ethereal again and I could almost worship you. When the tide of every memory comes rushing back in, it sometimes become so overwhelming, I would find myself drowning. But it is a good thing, no?
Loving you again.
Most of the times, you make me happy to love you again. But sometimes, you fail me. I would look around for you and never find you. And in the eve of the flood of love, I die again. These kind of deaths are painful. These kind of deaths are the hardest to forget. Even forgive. These kind of deaths amplifies the emotion that made me give up on you in the first place.
I loved you and you were never there to love me back.
And so this time, I lose you.
If I don't see or hear from you, my heart for you slowly dies and I detach myself from you. I give up on you. I do not know why I do that. I don't even plan on it. It just happens.
I get resentful, too. I get all these mad accusations inside my head about how petty you have become and I get petty, too. And I indulge myself to some self pity and I stay there until something better catches my attention or some fond memory jolts me back to my senses.
And then I love you again. And then, you are ethereal again and I could almost worship you. When the tide of every memory comes rushing back in, it sometimes become so overwhelming, I would find myself drowning. But it is a good thing, no?
Loving you again.
Most of the times, you make me happy to love you again. But sometimes, you fail me. I would look around for you and never find you. And in the eve of the flood of love, I die again. These kind of deaths are painful. These kind of deaths are the hardest to forget. Even forgive. These kind of deaths amplifies the emotion that made me give up on you in the first place.
I loved you and you were never there to love me back.
And so this time, I lose you.
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